Ink
by fei3
Summary: MARTY-enriched for your health and well-being. CHAPTER 4 UP! Gomen for the wait! Ken Hidaka has been dead to the world for years, living in anonymity as Weiss. But when his anonymity is challenged....
1. Chapter One : In Which Trouble Begins

Authors' notes:

Er….the real authors' notes and disclaimer are at the end of the story. *shrugs* It just worked better that way.

Read on folks!

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Ink

Chapter One

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By Marty and Fei

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It was a perfect day.

The morning sun's rays gently toasted bronzed skin. Not too harsh, just the way he liked it. The cool spring breeze playfully tousling through brunette locks.

The skies were blue, the grass was green…

What else could a man ask for?

Granted, other things could be right with the world. Like no baddies to kill, a family to go home to, a loved one by your side, a sporting career to die for…

Ok. Stop. Not going there.

The thoughts were banished with a toss of sweat-drenched locks as the brunette opened lively chocolate eyes to once more soak in the colours of the day. Ahhh….bliss. Birds twittering. A little more twittering than usual though.

With a slight frown, the brunette - ah heck, you should have figured out by now that he's none other than Ken Hidaka - turned for the umpteenth time to sneak a glance at the number of whispering shoujos who have crowded the field today. Strange. What would they find interesting in a group of children learning how to kick a ball? They certainly hadn't been interested before.

Ah well, who could figure girls out anyway. He certainly hadn't had much luck even though he had spent years dealing with rabid fangirls in the store.

Shrugging, Ken turned back to what would be more worth his time - the game at hand. These kids, how he loved them. You didn't have to put your guard up around them. You didn't have to care that they saw you for more than what you presented to them. In their eyes, he would simply be their happy and kind Ken-niichan, good at soccer, and also healing wounds, a skill called to use then as a sob pierced through the carefree laughter.

Worried eyes turned to the source of the noise to see a little boy hugging his knee to his chest, chibi eyes miserable. He was there in a flash.

"Toshi-kun, daijoubu?" He queried softly while getting down on his knees beside the little boy. Watery green eyes looked up to meet his as the boy pouted and pointed to his grazed knee. "Hikaru pushed me", came the complaint.

"Maa maa!" Ken laughed, tousling the boy's sand-blonde hair. "It's just a little injury. And pro soccer players get those all the time. You're just getting your battle scars ne?"

Wide eyes brightened. "Hontou ni?" 

A grin. "Hai! Hontou da yo." Problems were always simpler when you were a kid.

Just as he was finishing up placing the band-aid on a scuffed knee, a concerned voice rang out in his ear. "What happened? Is Toshi alright?" Ah…enter the worried mum. 

He watched amusedly, and slightly enviously, as a pair of hands clutched protectively around the boy. "He's fine. A scratch that I've already patched up."

"Arigatou." A relieved Nohara-san said. "Well, it's time to get going anyway. Toshi, go get your stuff."

Saa. The game was coming to an end ne? Ken grinned and watched his students running up to their parents, occasionally lifting a hand to wave goodbye. It was after a while that he realised Nohara-san was still standing beside him…and fidgeting.

The 'standing-beside-him' part he was used to. Mums seemed to like to do that, hovering at his side. But fidgeting?

Turning his brown eyes on her, he watched, surprised, noting how uncomfortable the woman looked. "Anou…" she began, eyes flicking to his and away so many times he was getting dizzy trying to keep track.

"Eh? What is it?" He was concerned. He didn't like the thought of any of his students' parents being uncomfortable with him.

"Er…you are Ken Hidaka-san ne?"

"Hai. Nanda? Is…is something wrong?"

"No no! Nothing. Nothing at all."

A bit more fidgeting. And then. "Well, I'd better get going. Toshi still has to go for his piano lessons."

"Hai. Dewa…mata na." Confused brown eyes watched as the woman all but scurried away with little Toshi yelling goodbye at the top of his lungs. 

That was odd.

He thought it had been a well-known fact amongst the parents what his name was. So what was that all about? Usually they just called him Ken-kun and that was that. He couldn't help the small spark of uneasiness creeping up his spine. Now that he thought about it, some of the other parents were also looking at him kinda strange today.

A tentative tap on his shoulder. He turned. Man, how many times was he going to be surprised today? He nearly groaned when he saw two schoolgirls clutching each other's hands and staring wide-eyed at him.

Forcing a smile on his handsome face, he cheerily called out: "Ohayou. How can I help you?" Yeah yeah, they were not in the flower shop but he just didn't know what else to say to them.

"He is soooo bish!" was the whispered comment from one girl to the other before they turned to face him again, goggle-eyed and all. "Ken Hidaka-san ne?" was the awed question.

It took him all of his self-discipline not to turn tail and run. It was bad enough already to be cornered in the Koneko but to be cornered out on an open field? Mou…life sucked. He could feel his good mood dissipating already.

"Hai." Was his forced cheerful answer.

"Wai!! It's really him!!" came the over-enthusiastic scream which caused a bewildered brunette to clamp his hands over his ears in an effort to save his eardrums from the assault at such close quarters.

As if that wasn't bad enough, the girls suddenly decided that they would very much enjoy clasping his hands instead of each other's. And they did just that, latching onto his arms and dragging them from his ears.

"Ne ne, can we call you Ken-kun?" was the next squeal. No barriers available this time. Ken winced in pain.

"A…Aa."

"WAI!!!!!" 

Oh Gods kill him now!

By then, they were glomping onto his sweaty body, eager hands tugging at his damp soccer shirt. "Ne Ken-kun, are you here every Saturday? Huh huh?"

Gulping, he tried prying off their hands without it seeming too obvious, though all he wanted to do was to throw them to the other end of the field. At a loss for what to say, he repeated the word again.

"Aa." He should be careful. He'd be turning into Aya if this went on.

"Yokatta!" Was the enthusiastic reply. Ken was jumping up and down on his feet. He couldn't help it, not with two jumping girls beside him tightly clutching his body.

"G…gomen..ojous..sa..san…" He could barely stutter out the words what with all the movement. "Bu..but I got…gotta..g..gooooo."

Much to his relief, they actually released him. Thank God! And better still, they actually decided to leave. Will wonders never cease?! "We'll see you again next week Ken-kun!" Two faces beamed at him.

"Su..sure." His smile was disoriented and weak. Next week? He sure hoped not.

Wary eyes studied the numerous other girls who were making eyes at him. Better run before anymore decided to approach. And so that was what he did. Grabbing his balls and sports bag, he scooted away from the field, running towards the flower shop he called home.

But before that, one stop was needed. The grocery store. He needed to get more milk and juice and Aya's jell-o. Wouldn't want the redhead to kill him when he found out that he had eaten up all of his favourite lemon-flavoured ones. 

At least it would be safe in the store. He hoped.

Not much problem getting the milk and juices, except there wasn't any lemon jell-o left. Ack. _'Hope Aya is good with lime.' _

Hauling his burdens with him to the checkout counter, Ken beamed his charming smile at the middle-aged woman who always had a kind word for him. "Obaasan! Genki?" She liked to be called obaasan though she was still rather young for that term. Some explanation about the term making her feel prosperous. Don't ask.

"Genki genki." Obaasan smiled toothily at him. Nothing new there.

"Ah Ken-kun. Finished playing with the children already?" Usual question. Nothing new there either.

"So Ken-kun, how was it like in the J-league?"

"Eh?!" 

His breath caught. That was new. And unexpected. And before long his chest reminded him that it was also painful. Memories threatened to cloud his brain and it was only with some valiant fighting on his part that he managed to stave them off.

"Wh..what did you say?" He stuttered. How did she know about that?

Obaasan laughed at her own statement and blabbered on, oblivious to his discomfort. "Good joke ne? I always thought you kinda looked like that ex-player that my son was so fond of. He had a poster of him up in his room you know. But I bet you get it all the time ne? People saying that you looked like that goalie who sold-out his team and all that. But you can't be him right? You're such a nice boy. And I heard he was supposed to be dead and all, so how could you be him ne?…….."

Ken's face was getting paler by the minute, each of her words stabbing into his heart. He could feel his blood rushing away from his head and…no, no fainting allowed. As it would appear, no questioning on his part allowed either since she wouldn't stop talking. Oh man! What a day this was turning out to be. And it started off so wonderfully too!

Grabbing his purchases, bag, and soccer balls, he hastily mumbled some excuse about having to get home before stumbling hurriedly out of the store. Bad decision to make that stop. Damn Aya and his jell-o.

Ken closed the distance between the neighborhood grocery store and the Koneko in what seemed like record time. But it still wasn't fast enough. 

The farther Ken went, the clearer his head became, the fresh air working its magic as he breathed in deep, reassuring lungfuls. Yet the clearer his head became the more he began to notice the odd glances that were cast his way. One man even had the nerve to simply stop and stare, his mouth hanging slightly open. 

Disconcerted, his nerves still frayed from his encounter with Obaasan, Ken found himself hurrying down the street, eyes darting to and fro at a dizzying speed. It was like the whole world was looking at him. What? Did he have some sort of growth on his head he'd never noticed before?! Had he forgotten to put pants on? Was his fly unzipped?!

Ken had always been one of those people who took themselves for granted. He had no idea that he was beautiful, no idea that his flawless, lightly tanned skin complimented his rich, brown hair, or that his perfectly toned body and his eyes, so soft and soulful, often drove people to distraction. People he could never imagine driving to distraction. People who stole guilty, fascinated glimpses of him when his attention was elsewhere. People who were right under his nose. 

This being the case, Ken, unaware of his undeniable attractiveness, usually never noticed when the odd person on the street would give him a second glance. He didn't like to be scrutinized, it made him uncomfortable, he always wondered what was wrong, what were people looking at? In a way, his hurried streak home was like a nightmare come true. 

All those faces…looking…scrutinising…. His discomfort with the stares of others only fueled his paranoia.

Finally breaking into a run Ken made his way home and came up short, screeching to a halt outside the store. It was packed. Not just packed with annoying schoolgirls like it might have been on any usual day, but filled with housewives, businessmen, and for once school –boys- as well. 

Either they were having the sale of the century, which knowing Aya was about as likely as Hell freezing over, and no one had told Ken about it, or his day had just gotten a lot worse. 

Taking a deep breath he rushed forward and began shoving his way through the crowd. People jostled and grunted as he pushed past them, making snapping remarks until he heard somebody cry, "Hey! That's him! It's Hidaka-san!" 

The people began to push towards him and Ken saw his escape route quickly being closed off. Unknown, unwanted faces pressed in closer looking him over. 

"Is it really?!"

"Do you really think it's him?!"

"Hidaka-san, Hidaka-san!!"

"Kakkoii!"

Those eyes….those faces…. Ken wanted to scream to yell at the top of his lungs and tell all of those people to fuck off. He had no idea why they were about to mob him, but that only made the situation that much more uncomfortable. 

Yet when he opened his mouth nothing came out, only a strangled squeak of exasperation and the faces only got closer. Now hands started to reach out to touch him too. 

Was it the groceries?! Did they want Aya's lime jell-o?! 

And just as it seemed like all those people were about to converge on him like some human tidal wave, a voice rang out above the din, "O-oi! Let me through, God damn it, I work here!" and a hand reached through the crowd, grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him through the people like it was nothing.

It felt like he broke from the crowd with an audible pop and the next thing he knew he was bumping against a soft, green, Armani clad chest. 

Youji. 

"Hey, Ken. You look frazzled," the blonde-haired playboy said, grinning down at Ken over the rim of his sunglasses. 

Just then, as Ken was beginning to straighten himself out and the crowd looked like it might make another move towards him, the lean, imposing figure of one Aya Fujimiya stepped up beside Youji. 

"If you aren't going to buy anything, get –out-!" he yelled, single handedly glaring down the entire collection of would-be patrons. 

Omi leapt spastically to the forefront brandishing a pair of pruning shears. "Back to the pit from whence you came, evil beasts!" 

"Bishounen, stop that," Youji said in exasperation, as he took Ken's arm and hauled him sideways. 

To Ken's utter surprise he realized he was being passed off to Aya, whose thin, artistic fingers clamped around his upper arm like a vice and began to haul him towards the back door. "We need to talk." 

Ken, simply glad to be away from the oppressing stares of the crowd, sighed and let Aya drag him away. Moments later he was being shoved, rather roughly into the back room. The red headed leader of Weiss pushed him farther into the room and then held the door open as Youji, looking rather smug, and Omi, still brandishing his shears, followed. 

"Thank you, Momoe-san," Ran called out into the store which was still crawling with the mob.

As soon as the door clicked shut all three remaining members of Weiss turned towards Ken and proceeded to stare. Indigo scrutinized mercilessly, emerald laughed silently, and deep, clear blue only peered in earnest concern. 

"What?!" Ken cried, no longer able to contain himself. "What the fuck is it? Do I have three heads or something? Is my hair on fire?" 

His exasperation had reached its peak and he stood there panting a bit frantically, looking back and forth from one teammate to the other. When no answer came Ken grumbled in frustration and slammed his burdens down on one of the potting tables. "What is going on?!"

"Why don't you tell us?" Aya said coldly and then reached out, taking Ken's arm, pushing him towards the stairs down into the basement room. 

"Uf! Jesus, what is wrong with you guys?"

The redhead looked over his shoulder and nodded to the youngest member of Weiss. "Stay with the store, Momoe-san might need help."

The small blonde nodded a bit hesitantly, and, casting Ken a worried glance, mumbled, "Good luck, Kenken," and then pushed back through the door to face the mob, shears in hand.

"What the heck is that supposed to mean?" Ken grumbled as Aya gave his back another shove.

"Oh, Kenken, you really are thick as a brick, aren't you?" Youji chuckled as he helped Aya to herd the brunette down the winding stairs.

When he reached the bottom, Ken tried to turn around to face his teammates, still searching for an answer that would end his confusion. But all he met with were Aya's cold eyes and then his merciless grip on his shoulder, twisting him, turning him around and steering him to the couch before the TV. Aya pushed him down onto the cushion and then stalked across the room to a high table. 

Ken watched him, his nervousness growing. As if all those strangers acting so weirdly wasn't bad enough, now his teammates were treating him like some kind of criminal. 

Youji came around the back of the couch and propped himself there, grinning smugly down at the confused brunette. "What?!" Ken cried again. 

"Nothing, just thinking about what it must be like to be so incredibly naive, that's all."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Ken barked, starting to get up again, but by that time Aya had come back from the table and pushed him down again. 

He stared down at Ken with expressionless eyes and flipped something out in front of him. As it unfurled it made the distinctive sound of crinkling paper. The scent of newspaper ink filled Ken's nose as his eyes were automatically drawn down to the item held out to him.

"What is this?" Aya said flatly. 

Ken gave the paper a glance and scanned the title. "It's some tabloid," he said, looking back up to Aya with a 'so-what' expression.

The redhead narrowed his eyes and his lips became even thinner. He shook the paper to get Ken's attention again. "I know that. Read what it says."

Ken heard Youji snicker above him, but tried to ignore it. Sighing in exasperation he took the paper in his hands and looked over the headlines. As he did so he felt the color slowly draining from his face. His stomach twisted sickeningly as his heart started to beat double time.

"This….." he breathed. "This is….." But no words would come. He just sat there, staring blankly at the page. 

"Let me read it for you," Aya said coldly, taking the paper back from Ken's trembling hands. 

"'Ken Hidaka: Presumed dead ex-soccer star sellout, still alive?! J-league goalie involved in biggest sports related drug scandal, reported dead five years ago, may still be alive! Is this ex-star living in Tokyo area flower shop?! See page twelve for exclusive photos and full story.'" 

At this Aya flipped the tabloid open to page twelve and dropped it open onto Ken's lap in disgust. 

A sickening nausea rose up in Ken's stomach as he dumbly looked down at the arrangement of black and white photos. Sure enough they were shots of him. Mostly shots taken of him playing with his soccer kids, but a couple of him working in the Koneko as well. The title above the pictures read. "Area man Hidaka look-alike or real deal?! Local resident confirms subject's name!!" 

Ken swallowed and stole a tentative look up at Aya who was simply staring, arms crossed across his chest, glaring down at the brunette. 

All of a sudden Youji started to snicker and then spontaneously burst into a fit of laughter. 

"What's so funny, Kudou?" Aya snapped, shifting his eyes to look at the blonde.

"This whole thing is hilarious! I mean Kenken's in the tabloids! This is priceless. Our own little private star. That's the first funny thing. The second funny thing is the fact that all those people actually care!" 

Youji went on snickering and giggling.

Ken closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "Thanks, Youji."

"Well come –on- Ken. I mean you were in J-league for like what? Less than a year? I mean the fact that anyone even cares is hilarious."

"It's not funny, Youji," Aya said dryly. "Publicity for Ken is potential publicity for Weiss. We don't need attention drawn to –any- of us."

"Oh c'mon, Aya. Who even reads tabloids?" Youji said, still snickering. 

"All those people in the store," Aya answered seriously.

"All the people who were looking at me on the street," Ken added despondently. "Nohara-san, Obaasan, those girls….." 

"Ok, granted," Youji replied. "But how often do you see things like this in the tabloids? 'Elvis spotted, Diana still alive?' I mean, nobody believes that shit. It will all blow over in a day or two."

"You're overlooking the important part, Youji. This is true. This isn't some made-up, outrageous claim, it's the –truth-. Ken Hidaka really –is- Ken Hidaka the ex-soccer star who was supposed to have burned to death in a warehouse. And with this kind of shit going around it won't take long for someone to prove it," Aya snapped, glaring at Ken again.

The young brunette withered miserably under his leader's stare, looking back into his lap, studying the low quality photos of himself intently. 

Youji rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but why does anybody care? So what?"

"Yeah," Ken broke in, "why would anybody care? I wasn't like some super star or anything. I'd only just started playing in J-league. I was just another player as far as most people were concerned."

"Until you were convicted of drug trafficking and selling out your own team," Aya said. 

"But I didn't!" Ken cried getting to his feet desperately. 

"Sit back down," Aya grated, pushing the smaller man back down onto the couch. "So what if you didn't? The only people who knew that were you and Kase….. and he's dead. You were only kicked out of the league, Ken, you hadn't faced your juvenile court sentence, and now that you're no longer a minor if they try you now….." 

Ken turned his face away, hating the way Aya's words could hurt him so badly. They cut through all of his defenses and hit the center of his being. Gritting his teeth he grumbled, "So what exactly is your point and why do you keep treating me like this is my fault?"

"I don't know who else's fault it would be. You didn't even change your name after Kritiker saved you. You haven't done anything to hide who you are, or were for that matter." 

At this Youji began to snicker again. "Baka," he intoned. 

"Didn't you think someone would notice, would recognize you? Especially since you put yourself on display every single day playing soccer with those damn kids….."

"Those kids are my life!" Ken cried, whipping his head around, fighting desperately to keep the stinging in his eyes from becoming what he knew it would. 

"No!" Aya snapped abruptly, his anger showing in an uncharacteristic outburst. One deep breath and he collected himself, leaning over Ken, pressing his face close to the ex-soccer players. "Weiss is your life, don't –ever- forget that," he said in a low, icy tone.

Ken, pushed to the limit with his leader's verbal abuse, sat forward until his nose almost touched Aya's, and set his jaw. "Ie, you're wrong. Weiss is –your- life," he said dangerously.

Sparks flew between the eyes of the volatile brunette and the usually stern and collected redhead.

Aya had to admit it, from the very beginning he had had to admit it. Ken had a way of getting under his skin and inciting him to fits of emotion he could usually keep under wraps. Who else could have drawn him into a full blown fist fight on their second meeting? Who else could make him so angry now? Angry and….. worried? Reacting with anger not only because of Ken's carelessness, but also because of other uncharacteristic emotions that the article had dug up in him.

Growling in anger Aya reached out and grabbed the front of Ken's shirt, yanking him up off the couch, the tabloid newspaper falling forgotten to the ground. Ken shoved the older man away roughly, breaking free of his grasp. 

The two glared at each other, the air crackling with tension, both readying themselves for what seemed to be an inevitable knock-out, drag-down. 

At least it did until Youji stepped suddenly between them. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa there, Misters Over-excited, why don't you just both back off?" Youji said seriously, looking darkly at Aya. "Ken, just settle down. I'm serious, Aya, that was totally out of line, back off."

"He started it," Aya growled.

"I did not!" Ken cried, trying to make a go for Aya, until Youji cut him off, pushing him back onto the couch. 

"Jesus! What are you both four?! 'He started it!' 'Did not.' 'Did too!'" Youji said, mocking them in a high-pitched child's voice. 

The leader of Weiss growled and then tore away, going to stand by the wall. Ken crossed his arms angrily and sat back, his anger and frustration quickly dissipating, as it always did, turning into weariness. 

"So what does this mean?" he asked at length. 

Youji turned to him and flashed the brunette his thousand dollar smile. "Probably nothing, Kenken. Don't worry about it. It'll all dissipate in a few days."

"And if it doesn't?" Aya interjected. 

"It will," Youji said again. 

"Fine, but for now just stay down here," Aya said flatly, turning his attention back to Ken. "The shop's enough of a mess without you." 

Ken stared at his leader for a moment, hoping some angry retort would come to him, but nothing did, he was only hurt, and still too confused to say much. "Fine," he sighed at length. 

Youji patted Ken on the shoulder and then began to walk back towards the stairs. "It'll pass, no worries, Kenken."

Ken listened as Youji's feet retreated up the stairs. He also heard Aya grunt and make his way towards the winding staircase as well. The moment Ken heard his footfall on the first step he found his mouth opening, saying the first thing that came to his mind.

"They didn't have lemon."

A pause. 

"What?"

"At the grocery store. I….. I ate the last of your jell-o, so I bought some more for you. But they were out of lemon. I bought lime instead. I hope that's ok," he said quietly, tucking his legs up onto the couch. 

All Ken heard was another pause and then Aya's feet retreating up the stairwell. What he didn't see was the moment of hesitation that passed through Aya's body, he didn't see his hand still momentarily on the banister as the redhead cast him a long glance across the room. But then again….. he wasn't supposed to. 

A few hours later Ken awoke from the stress induced nap he had succumbed to not long after Aya and Youji left him alone. He was awoken by an all too familiar sound.

"Ken-kun!! Ken-kun, come upstairs the shop has emptied out now, you can come back up with us!"

Omi. And dang didn't he sound chipper. Of course that was nothing new, was it?

"H-hai, Omi-kun….. I'm coming."

When Ken pushed through the door into the shop again he was pleasantly surprised to see that it was indeed back to its usual self. In fact it was practically empty. His teammates were all seated around the table, looking rather frazzled. All of them except Aya that was, he was standing behind the counter, pruning a scrawny looking rose bush. 

Sighing Ken plunked down into the seat next to Youji. 

"All of your admiring fans have finally dissipated. See I told you it would blow over," Youji sighed.

"Great."

"Did you take a nap, Ken? You look sleepy," Omi asked brightly, leaning over the table to smile at his friend. 

Ken nodded and tried to force a smile. "Yeah, I did. I feel better for it too. What a crazy day. I really hope that all of this is over."

"Hn," Aya grunted.

Just then the bells attached to the door sounded, announcing the entrance of a customer. All four Weiss members turned to look at the newcomer to the store. 

A tall, well dressed young man was leaning in through the door, one finger pulling his sunglasses down his nose. Dark, slightly tousled hair fell forward into his eyes, a wide grin plastered across his mouth. 

"Konnichiwa, minna-san. Sorry to intrude but this is the Koneko no Sumu Ie, correct?" 

Youji, sensing a disturbance in the force, pushed back from the table a little, his chair making a rather terrible screeching sound on the tiled floor. "Yeah, this is." 

The man moved all the way into the shop, letting the door close behind him. It could now be seen that he was carrying a small attaché case with him. Prada. 

"I'm so glad, I thought I was lost again. So then….. you must be Ken Hidaka, ne?" the man said abruptly, shifting his gaze to Ken who immediately froze under the man's penetrating gaze. 

The chair squeaked again as Youji stood up abruptly. "Alright, buddy, I don't know who you are, or what you want, but-"

"What I want? Oh, I don't really want much of anything. I only want one tiny thing, that's all." 

"And what exactly would that be?" Youji grumbled sarcastically.

"An interview." 

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to be continued

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Real Authors' Notes:

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Fei : Ne, Marty? How did we get started on this fic anyway?

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Marty : My friend is a baka, and then you asked that stupid question.

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Fei : ….. Saa…. *pauses* What question? 

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Marty : *glares… rolls eyes*

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Fei : *pouts* Nani?! At least I remember the baka friend… *mumbles something about people who don't see the goodness of Ken*

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Marty : Oh well. We were talking about how all the boys got into Weiss, remember? And then you said "If Ken was such a popular goalie and appeared on television and newspapers and stuff, why is it that he is never recognised on the streets, especially since he never changed his name?"

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Fei : Oh, hai! *nods nods* Now I remember. It's a rather good question, ne?

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Marty : *raises eyebrow* *pats* Hai. Anyway back to the explanation. So then I started making cracks about Ken in the tabloids, and you were laughing so hard at it.

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Fei : Yeah. And then I talked about collab-ing, and you said ok, and I asked if you were serious about it.

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Marty : *nods* And then I said I was, and asked if -you- were serious about it... 

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Fei : Hai! And then I said I was and asked if you were.

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Marty and Fei : *pauses and stares*

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Marty : Er...yeah, that's how it all started.

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Fei : Not all that interesting when you look at it like that. 

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Marty : True…. Oh well! 

Disclaimer : We dun own Weiss... if we did we could sue the tabloids...

Before you go, let us know if it's worth us trying to synchronize two busy schedules, 13 hours apart to write more of this, or if we should both just go back to sleeping. *points at pretty button below*


	2. Chapter Two : In Which Ken Connects With...

Authors' notes:

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Marty: Ne, Fei... I think maybe we should apologize for having this take so long.

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Fei: *mutters* 17 hours...17 FREAKING hours....*shudders*

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Marty: H-hai. *pats pats* Well... it was break so I had to go home to Alaska, and the time difference was 17 hours between Fei and I for a whole month! Actually I liked to think of it as being 7 hours earlier tomorrow... er... but that probably only makes sense to me... -_-;; So with all that time and Fei's busy schedule and my family and friends back home it just... took a long time.

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Fei: *mutters some more* busy schedule...work...f*** s*** $#%^$&%!!!

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Marty: *ignoring Fei's outburst* Especially since we couldn't get online very often and talk things over since the only times we could connect were either when it was really early in the morning for me and really late at night for Fei or really late at night for me and around dinner time for Fei... but she has a habit of working late and so…

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Fei: *sighs* Yeah. Work bad. Bad work. So in short, due to the lack of time and the screwed up timing we took a longer time to update this chap. But time and time again - I have to stop saying "time" - when we felt like giving up, we took a look at our reviews, burst into tears, and kept on going. Cheesy I know, but so so true. 

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Marty: *raises an eyebrow* Yeeees.... 

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Fei: *swats Marty*

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Marty: Itai! *grumbles* Be nice!

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Fei: *pouts* Anyways, we -have- to thank all our lovely reviewers. You guys are so great! Arigatou! *beams*

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Marty: *nods nods* Hai! Nothing quite like heaps of unconditional praise *stares dreamily off into space* I'd like to thank all the little people....

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Fei: *slaps hand over Marty's mouth* We'd like to thank all the following wonderful people *rolls out parchment* - _Kami-chan, Rika-chan, Lola-chan, Lilas, Whisper-chan, Ku-chan, Moonraven, siberian, Eeyore, Naomi, Windy McDohl, Gnine, Jenny, Aya Eliya, Random Lurker, lupin, Carter, Jeshi, marsupial, Cece, fuzzish, Daystar Shade, Fuyukaze-Yuki, Karyx, chibi koneko, larisa, ember-fang, Keeshe, Jin, Kyri, misty, Lilla, and last but not least, Seph Lorraine_. 

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Marty: *bats at Fei's hand* Bleh! *glares* Anyway thanks again guys! And feel free to leave more reviews on the way out *nudge nudge wink wink* And to all you lurkers... *evil fiery death glare of doom* I hex you. *smiles sweetly*

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Fei: *sweatdrops* Er...yeah. Well, read on and enjoy...we hope. *drags Marty off to drool over LotR some more* 

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Disclaimer : Don't own anything. Not even our sanity. Lack of sleep took that away loooong ago…

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Ink

Chapter Two

__

By Marty and Fei

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The four members of Weiss were dumbstruck for a few moments by the man's audacity. 

At the silence the young man by the door grinned charmingly and waited for a reaction. He didn't have to wait long.

"-If- you aren't going to buy anything…" Aya growled, stepping out from behind the counter and setting his pruning shears down with an audible click, "get out."

He hovered at the edge of the counter and glared at the man darkly.

The young man cocked his head and grinned again, showing a row of perfect, white teeth, a million dollar commercial smile, practiced to perfection. The grin wrinkled up his eyes in a way that he most likely thought was quite charming. "Now… I don't think I was talking to you. I was talking to Hidaka-san. At least I was trying to," he said pointedly, swiveling his gaze back to Youji who now stood with his arms crossed by his chair. "And I would like to continue to do so." 

The young man stepped briskly into the shop maneuvering around Youji, extending his hand towards Ken who could do nothing more than look up at him like a deer stuck in the headlights. 

Aya's eyebrow twitched upwards once, but other than that there was no visible sign of his quickly shortening temper. 

"Teijirou Uchida, I'm a journalist and I couldn't help but read the article on you this morning. I'm curious about the truth of this matter," he said cheerfully, leaving his hand extended as Ken either refused or was unable to take it. After a rather awkward moment he chuckled thinly and then cocked his head again. "Do you mind if I sit?"

Ken opened his mouth, beginning to find his footing after the initial bewilderment. But he was still a tad too slow however. 

"I mind," Youji said darkly, shifting his weight, putting one hand on the back of the chair closest to Uchida. 

Teijirou shot him a quick glance and then chuckled. "I didn't realize you required bodyguards, Hidaka-san. Should I have made an appointment?"

"That's it," Youji grumbled. "You're so out of here."

He closed the gap between himself and the young journalist, grabbing the young man's shoulder. Much to Youji's surprise the man twisted easily out of his grasp, turning around and pulling quickly away. 

"Touch me again and I will sue you," he said, his deceptively cheerful voice making a rather quick change, dropping in tone, laced with threat. 

"Excuse me?" Youji grated, narrowing his green eyes. 

"Journalists can't be too careful, my friend. And I don't like being manhandled anymore than the next person, so please, try to resist the urge to touch me."

Youji's nostrils flared and then he composed himself, pointing at the door. "Leave my shop before I kick your sniveling, two-faced ass seven ways from Sunday. And I'm not your friend." 

"My business isn't finished here," Teijirou replied somewhat blandly, placing a hand on Ken's shoulder. 

At the touch Ken seemed to finally come back to his senses. With one quick flick he angrily brushed the man's hand away and then stood abruptly, to face him. Anger flashed in his brown eyes as he pulled himself up to stare resolutely at the rather taken aback young man. 

"I don't know what exactly you think your business is, Uchida-san, but I would appreciate it if you would do as my co-worker asks and leave. I don't want to talk to you. Leave me alone."

The young man actually blanched for a moment and Ken was momentarily thrown by how truly crestfallen the young, dark haired man appeared. "Ah… Hidaka-san, I understand that you might feel rather… uncomfortable about talking to someone about this right now," he said, recovering quickly, a small smile re-gracing his face. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a small, white card and began to hold it out to Ken. "I'll give you my card and when you feel like-."

But before he could either finish his sentence or pass his card off to Ken, Youji had grabbed him by the shoulder again and begun to drag him away. His fingers released the card and it fell into empty air, fluttering slowly to the tiled floor. 

"See, now your business is finished, Uchida-san," Youji said sweetly. 

"I thought I told you not to touch me," Teijirou grumbled.

"Go ahead and sue me, pretty boy. I'll take my chances. Aya, would ya mind getting' the door?"

Without a word Aya crossed silently to the door and held it open. Youji escorted the journalist to the door and deposited him, none too gently onto the sidewalk outside. 

As the door closed on the young man's back and Youji and Aya began to move back to their respective spots Ken sat down heavily and buried his face in his hands. "Why me?"

"Are you ok, Ken-kun?" Omi asked worriedly, leaning over the table. He'd watched the entire exchange silently, knowing his interference wouldn't have done much good. 

"Hai," Ken moaned, putting his head on the table. 

Then suddenly the doorbell jingled again as the door was hastily pushed open. "I know I'm not welcome but just let me say one thing. There is no use sitting here and hoping everything will go away, Hidaka-san. Ignoring the problem won't make it get better, it will only make it worse. But then you might have to learn that the hard way. I know my own profession and once the industry grabs a hold of something that sells they will only fan the flames higher and higher. Today was only the beginning. No matter what consequence telling the truth will bring, I promise that it will be more bearable than letting the rumors spread on their own. No matter what that truth is, it's all that I care about. I can help you a lot more than I can hurt you. Just think about it."

Suddenly Aya stepped forward again, gritting his teeth and slammed the door shut on the journalist's face. The bell jingled loudly in protest. 

"We're closed," the redheaded leader of Weiss snapped, taking his key from his pocket and giving it a savage turn in the lock before he flipped the sign in the window. His narrow, penetrating eyes locked for a moment with those of the young journalist and both could see that the other was not a man to be denied. 

With a frustrated hiss Aya tore himself away from the front door and stalked back across the shop, stopping by Ken's shoulder. "Nice mess you've gotten yourself into. Must be nice to be so popular," he sneered and then continued on, slamming the back door behind him. 

"Oi, Aya!" Youji called after him. 

"Forget it, Youji. Aya's right. This is all a big mess. I've gotta find a way out of it."

Youji patted one of Ken's shoulders. "It will all blow over. Don't let Aya's hot air get to you. The guy's in serious need of a laxative and some Prozac."

Neither Omi nor Ken could help but snicker at Youji's ruthless prognosis of their notoriously high-strung leader. But Ken's laughter was only half hearted and quickly died away as Youji gave his shoulder another pat and then followed after Aya, leaving through the back door. 

No matter what Youji said Ken couldn't help but take Aya's contempt to heart. For some reason he had always wanted to find a way past that icy wall that Aya showed to the world. 

Ken wasn't the kind of person who liked being alienated from or by others, especially when he was always so eager and willing to know and accept people for who they were. Some people thought it was naiveté that made him so trusting, but Ken knew that being naïve had nothing to do with it. It was just who he was. He wanted to believe that there were still some people, indeed most people, who were good at heart. Believing this was the only thing that kept him from despairing and losing faith in all of humanity. It might mean that the fall from grace was that much harder when he found himself double-crossed or backstabbed, but he had to keep believing in people, or else he knew he would go crazy. He wanted to be able to believe in Aya. Aya was his leader, the driving force of Weiss, the man who should have been able to inspire the others. But at times it was just so hard to believe in someone who wouldn't let him inside, who just kept pushing away and closing off. 

At first he thought he could break down Aya's defenses simply by use of brute force, but no amount of bull-dozing had seemed to work. Aya wasn't the kind of guy you could just "knock some sense into". It seemed that not matter what he tried with Aya he only got a slap in the face in return. And now Aya's contempt was practically more than he could bear. 

"Ken?" Omi's voice broke in through Ken's musings. "Are you sure you're ok?"

Ken shook his head and sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, I was just thinking."

Omi giggled. "Well, ok. But I agree with Youji, don't let what Aya says effect you. Just think of it as his way of showing concern." 

"Yeah, I guess."

Omi shook his head. "No, I mean it, Ken. I know Aya can be pretty cold, but I bet he's as worried about you as Youji and I are. He's cold, not heartless." 

Ken raised an eyebrow. "The wise sage speaks."

Omi giggled again and then went suddenly serious. "I really mean it, Ken-kun. Like when… when I learned about my family, about who I really was. At first Aya seemed really angry. He wouldn't even talk to me. But then, in the end, it was Aya who was really there for me when I needed someone. It was Aya who calmed my fears and told me that I wasn't who I was because of a name. I'm Omi Tsukiyono, not Mamoru Takatori, and I know that because of Aya. He cares. It just takes him a while to sort out his emotions and get around to showing it." 

Ken fixed Omi with a serious stare, searching the blue-eyed boy's face for a moment. He felt a sudden, unexpected pang of envy. Somehow along the way, Omi had managed to get past Aya's icy wall. But then it was hard to block out the cheerful, persistent bishounen. Ken had a feeling that Omi took the connection he had shared with Aya for granted. It didn't occur to Omi that it was possibly a phenomenon particular to his own effect on most people. 

Ken smiled softly and nodded. "Yeah. I guess you're right, Omittchi."

"Of course I am."

Ken chuckled half-heartedly again and then put his head down in his arms. 

__

Why do I even bother? Aya hates me.

He peered through the gap in his arms, studying the tiled floor with his eyes. 

"Well, Ken-kun, I think that since we closed up shop early I'll take advantage of the time and get some work done on the computer. Don't sit here and pout for too long, ne?"

"Sure thing, Omi," Ken's voice said faintly, but he wasn't really listening to Omi anymore. His eyes had settled on a small, white card lying face up on the floor, and the neat, blocky writing on its surface set his mind to thinking. 

****** 

"We have a winner!" Youji's loud, gregarious voice boomed as he pushed through the front door sending the bell into a fit of jarring jingling. 

Ken looked up from the table where he had been working over a particularly sickly looking violet. Sunlight streamed in through the large front windows backlighting Youji as he grinned wickedly and twitched his eyebrows at Ken. Without another word, and ignoring the death glare he received from Aya, Youji crossed the shop, adjusting the grocery bag he had balanced under one arm and came to stand next to Ken. 

Ken's brown eyes watched him apprehensively, knowing only too well what Youji was most likely rummaging around for as he dipped into the bag. A few moments later the sound of crinkling, rustling paper was accompanied by the materialization of yet another thick, squarish looking newspaper. 

The tall, blonde assassin chuckled perversely as he dropped the tabloid down on the table next to Ken's sickly violet. 

All Ken could do was sigh. He was far past the point of being able to get freshly upset with every new scandalous 'revelation' that the news industry dug up. He'd save up the day's worth of aggravation and frustration and let it out when he could finally be alone in his room. 

Youji plopped down next to Ken and set the grocery bag on the table, propping his head in one hand, staring at the brunette as if he were waiting for something. 

Ken looked away and went back to picking at the pitiful plant in front of him. He felt for the plant. It felt like him. All root bound and sick and sad. Being picked at by careless, coarse hands, peered at by numerous eyes, inspected, poked at, prodded, and finally, hopefully, dismissed and left to wither up and die. Ken had the distinct feeling that he was being morbid, but didn't really care. He went on working on the violet.

"Stop staring at me," he grumbled under his breath after a while.

"Then read it," Youji answered, keeping his eyes trained on Ken as he nonchalantly reached back into the grocery bag and started pulling out apples. "Omi, you want an apple?"

Omi looked over from where he had been doing inventory and grinned. "Thanks, Yotan!"

"No problem, bishounen. Here catch," he called, sending one apple arcing through the air, never letting his eyes leave Ken's profile. Youji noticed, with no small amount of perverse satisfaction, that Ken's jaw had started to clench and unclench. A sure sign that the brown-eyed boy-next-door was getting agitated. 

"Momoe-san, would you like an apple?" Youji called again.

There was no response from the little woman who sat, legs tucked under herself, in the rocking chair by the refrigerated flower case. 

"Momoe-san?"

Youji had the urge to turn his head, but keeping Ken under close scrutiny was too much fun and he knew that all his efforts would be lost if he let the younger Weiss member off now. Ken was starting to take deep, shaky breaths and bat his eyes at a rather alarming rate every few seconds. This was fun. 

"She's asleep, Kudou," Aya's deep, thick voice answered from where he was sweeping the floor for the third time in as many hours. 

"Ah," Youji replied, tilting his head a bit. "Would –you- like an apple, Aya-kun?" he asked sweetly. 

"No. And I would appreciate it if you wouldn't eat in the shop," he grated.

"Why? There's no one in here. It's no wonder Momoe fell asleep. No one is allowed to stay in here long enough to keep us busy," Youji grumbled. 

It was true. The shop had been amazingly quiet for the past few days. In fact Aya had made sure it stayed that way ever since they had opened shop again after the initial tabloid rush day. The front window was now adorned with rather large, sharp block characters reading **"IF YOU AREN'T GOING TO BUY ANYTHING STAY OUT! Rose Sale! One dozen for 2000 Yen."**

Shoppers who lingered for longer than ten minutes without making a purchase were promptly shown the street, courtesy of Aya's foot in their ass. For the relative quiet Ken was grateful, although he had a feeling that Aya had taken action more to defend Weiss against any possible complications caused by possible snoopers and for his own sanity than for any reason even remotely relating to Ken's well being.

"Customers are welcome, loiterers and… fans, are not," Aya said flatly, casting a narrow, withering glance in Ken's direction. 

But Ken was too focused on trying not to let Youji's stupid grin and constant scrutiny drive him mad to notice. 

"This is a good apple!" Omi chirped. "You should have one Ken." 

"I'll pass," Ken grated, twitching slightly as he heard Youji chuckle.

"Just read it, Kenken," Youji said softly. "You know you want to. It's a winner. The best one yet. Read it."

"Leave me alone, Kudou," Ken hissed, not turning his head. 

"Read it, read it, read it," Youji pressed, leaning a little closer. "I'm not going away until you do. I want the whole shop… all four of us and the sleeping Momoe, to hear what the magic boys down at the tabloid shop have come up with for today. Inquiring minds want to know." 

Ken closed his eyes and tried to subdue the overwhelming urge to clock Youji in the face. His hands trembled with suppressed irritation, and the leaves of the poor violet shook slightly, seemingly in tune with Ken's nervousness. 

"Do it," Youji said again, only this time he leaned closer to Ken and blew against the shell of his ear. 

That was it. The last straw. Ken's whole body twitched nervously, his hand jerking, accidentally snapping off the last semi healthy looking bud on the languishing flower. 

"Argh!" Ken yelled, twisting savagely in his seat, his hand balling into a fist, crushing the violet bulb into a rather juicy, purple mess. 

"Kudou!"

Violent, smoldering brown eyes widened, clashing with cool, laughing green. 

"Yeeees?" 

That smooth, taunting voice slid over Ken's nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. Those laughing eyes and that self-indulgent smile just threw him right over the edge. 

"Fine! Fine! You bastard, fine I'll read the goddamned headlines for today's tabloids!" he cried. "Let's find out what's new in the life of Ken Hidaka, shall we? Because I would really like to know, seeing as I obviously don't know myself since every story has been news to me! So let's see what today's 'winner' is all about."

Ken grabbed frantically at the paper and turned it over scanning the headlines. As he did so his face paled a bit and he felt all of his earlier fanaticism drain away. 

With a sigh of defeat and disgust he dropped the paper and sat back. "Oh, Jesus," he grumbled under his breath. This was too much. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes. And to think only a week ago his life had been normal. At this thought Ken had to laugh. He knew things were getting bad when he could consider being a part of Weiss as normal.

Youji started to laugh out loud and reached for the paper. "Aren't you going to read it to the rest of us?"

Ken sneered at Youji and narrowed his eyes. "You do it. I know you're dying to, ass-hole." 

Youji giggled to himself and sniggered. Standing up he held out the tabloid and started to read. 

"Supposed Ken Hidaka gay love square scandal! Ex-soccer star look alike at center of homoerotic love battle with roommates?! Florist foursome?! See page 16 for full story and (once again) exclusive photos," Youji bellowed gleefully. The sound of tabloid pages turning was accompanied by the sound of a clipboard being dropped and the sudden lack of sweeping. 

Ken didn't dare open his eyes. He knew what he would see. Omi would be standing there, clipboard at his feet, looking positively scandalized. And Aya… well Aya would most likely be readying himself to kill Youji. And after that he would move on to Ken and then march himself down to the printing house and set it on fire. Hopefully Momoe was still asleep. 

Youji had flipped to page 16 by this time and scoffed. "That is so not my ass. My ass is so much tighter than that. Although I do have to admit that this one guy –does- bear a passing resemblance to our beloved leader." 

Only a deafening silence met with his comment, but Ken knew this to be much deadlier than anything else that might have been uttered. 

"We made the tabloids, guys," Youji chirped, undaunted. "You should feel proud! We're all scandalous now! No one's been left out. Thanks Ken, you've brought us so much joy." 

"I have a feeling the high school girls are going to be back tomorrow," Omi sighed rather despondently. 

"I don't know, Omittchi. After Aya drove them away with the broom, I think they might stay gone," Youji interjected.

Ken finally opened his eyes in time to see Omi look at him pitifully, blue eyes wide and rather blank. He shook his head at Youji. "Nope. Believe me, one whiff of the word 'shounen-ai' and they'll be back... in force."

Ken had a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach and went back to closing his eyes. Thus he didn't see the uncharacteristically concerned look on Aya's face or the questioning glance thrown in his direction. 

"Girls these days," Youji grumbled. "Well anyway," he continued, placing a hand on Ken's shoulder, "I have to say that this is one of my all time favorites, although I have to admit that the alien abduction theory is still by far number one. See, Ken, you finally found a way to make yourself useful. If nothing else the entertainment you've brought is priceless." 

Ken took a quavering breath and stood up abruptly. Youji flinched like he expected Ken to throw a punch his direction, but Ken didn't have the energy or the drive to do anything to Youji. Besides, what difference would it make if he decked the playboy or not? It wasn't going to make the stories stop coming, it wasn't going to make things go back to the way they were, or erase the empty, tired, painful feeling that had been growing in his stomach for the past week. It wouldn't even make him feel better for a short time, so there was really no use. He'd just end up with sore knuckles anyway. Hitting anything as hard as Youji's thick scull most certainly would. 

"I'm going to my room. You don't need me here," he said with a mix of bitterness and anger in his voice. He didn't bother to give any of his teammates a dismissive glance as he stalked to the back door and slammed it shut behind him. Nor did he feel the pair of indigo eyes that followed him as he went on his way.

A tense silence hung in the air for a few moments and then Youji grumbled and threw himself down in the chair that Ken had just vacated. 

"Shit," he grumbled. "And I thought that would work."

"I think you went too far, Youji," Omi snapped, going into defensive mode as he often did when it came to Ken. "I thought he was going to hit you, and I wouldn't have blamed him if he had either."

Youji sighed. "I wish he –had- hit me. It might have done him some good. I'm tired of him just pouting and moping. It isn't good for him. He shouldn't let this shit bother him. I keep thinking that if I can just get him worked up enough he'll pop and then realize how stupid this whole thing is and let it roll off his back."

Omi shrugged. "Ken's not like that. He cares about what people think of him, this kind of stuff gets to him, you know. He'd probably feel a lot better if you'd stop tormenting him, Yotan."

Youji grumbled and picked absently at Ken's violet, leaning forward. "I just wish he'd wake up and realize it isn't a big deal."

"It is a big deal," the soft, low voice of Weiss' redheaded leader said. 

Youji turned his head towards Aya who was setting his broom against the wall. Aya turned towards him and cast him a bland glance as he began to deftly untie his apron strings. His fingers worked quickly behind his back as he walked across the shop to the pegs by the back door. 

"Where are you going?" Youji asked.

"Watch the shop," Aya said flatly as he turned the handle of the back door and disappeared.

"That wasn't an answer, Fujimiya!" Youji called after him, but the only response he got was the sound of the door clicking shut.

******

Aya paused at the base of the stairs and listened. He could hear Youji's muttering still coming from the shop, but he blocked it out easily enough. He couldn't hear any sound coming from the upstairs apartment or from the mission room below which meant that Ken really had most likely gone to hole himself up in his room. Again. In some ways Aya was loath to bother him now. He of all people understood the importance of privacy and the sanctity of one's own room. But then again he knew that this way Ken wouldn't be able to escape what he had to say. 

Placing one hand over his back pocket and sighing softly in satisfaction at finding the thin envelope still tucked safely away there, the leader of Weiss mounted the stairs to carry out his leaderly duties. 

The upstairs was as eerily quiet as the downstairs, which had Aya slightly worried. He had known Ken long enough to know that his silence indicated the severity of his condition more than words ever could. If Ken had been spitting mad, screaming and swearing, punching walls and kicking doorjambs Aya would have been much more at ease. 

He was used to his own silence, not the silence of others. 

Aya paused outside Ken's door and listened. Nothing. Yet he could feel the unmistakable aura of Ken. It was a presence, a feeling he had become accustomed to after working in such close quarters with the slightly younger brunette for so long. Even though Ken made no sound, Aya knew he was there. 

Biting his lip for a moment, Aya took a deep breath and absently reached to feel inside his back pocket again. He willed himself to stay calm. Lowering his eyelids, he breathed deeply and then opened them again slowly, focused. No matter what, he said to himself, I will not let Ken drag my emotions to the forefront. 

__

The last thing either of us needs is another fight.

He knocked once on the door and waited.

"Fuck off, Kudou!" The reply was quick and sharp.

Aya's lip twitched once, but he didn't let it bother him. He knocked again.

"I said, fuck off, Youji!" 

"What if it isn't Youji," Aya said flatly, willing his voice to remain calm and even. 

There was a loud silence from behind the door and then Aya heard the sound of feet padding softly across the floor. He watched the knob turn slowly, the brass colored metal catching the dim light reflected from the window at the end of the hall. The door swung open a crack.

A pair of tired, sad looking brown eyes peered up, not a little disbelievingly, at the tall, rigid looking redhead. They studied his face for a moment and then fell to the floor as if in defeat. 

"Can't you just leave me alone? What do you want?" he asked quietly.

Aya shifted his weight and raised one eyebrow. "We need to talk."

"The last time you said that to me was when this whole mess started," Ken grumbled. 

"What's your point?" Aya replied, his voice low and even. He stood waiting, his eyes, as always, betraying nothing. 

Finally Ken chuckled a little sickly and then pushed the door open the rest of the way, letting it swing out. He backed away from the doorway and walked back over to his bed. 

"C'mon in, Aya-kun. Make yourself at home."

Aya surveyed the rather disorganized contents of Ken's room. A pile of laundry in one corner, a few magazines strewn on the floor, more laundry in the other corner, empty sports drink bottles tipped over onto their sides, and yet more laundry. 

__

Not likely. 

On Ken's already overly cluttered desk was a growing pile of tabloid newspapers; the weeks worth of headlines and rumors ranging from the humorously speculative to the outrageously offensive. Aya had heard them all, Youji had made sure of that. Aya thought it distinctly morbid for Ken to surround himself with the source of his misery.

"You should clean this place up," Aya said without thinking.

Ken shot him a dark glance and then snickered. "Do you really need –another- reason to lecture me, Aya?" 

"No. You've given me enough," he replied quickly and coldly. He didn't like the way his voice sounded or how immediately and unbidden the sharp words rose to his tongue, but there was little he could do to recall them or to curb the effect they had on his teammate. 

Ken's dark, hurt eyes darted away from him quickly and the young assassin sat down heavily on his bed. 

"Just tell me what you want, Aya. And then leave me the hell alone," he sighed. His voice sounded so tired. 

Eyeing Ken, but unable to convey the empathy he felt for the miserable young man, Aya ignored his unnatural desire to speak words of comfort and instead reached into his back pocket and finally pulled out the envelope he had folded there. 

"Manx dropped by yesterday while you were busy pouting in here by yourself," Aya said, again aggravated at his own unthinking nature to say whatever biting words came freely to his lips. He didn't want to twist the knife in Ken, but he couldn't stop. It would seem that he couldn't let himself be off the defensive. Not when it came to Ken. Ken was dangerous. Yet at the same time the taciturn leader of Weiss understood that if he kept pushing then eventually something was going to break and things between him and his hotheaded teammate would go far beyond repair. And deep down Aya knew he didn't want that to happen. In fact he knew the opposite to be true. But then again, that's why Ken was dangerous. 

Ken said nothing to Aya's jab, only stared at his hands. 

"She left this," Aya continued, holding out the envelope to Ken. "All this attention has not gone unnoticed by Kritiker. They want the problem resolved. They aren't happy about the implications the publicity may have for Weiss." 

Ken took the envelope with a hand that was deceptively steady. The thin paper slid between his fingers with a soft rustling sound. He found himself resenting the fact that he had been handling too much paper recently.

But this paper was different. It was slightly warm to his touch. _From where it was pressed against Aya's body._ He thought absently, amused at the thought that Aya actually conducted heat through all that ice. 

Ken slid his finger under the seal and ripped it open, the tearing sound breaking the heavy silence. 

Pulling the single piece of thrice folded paper from inside, Ken methodically unfolded it and began to read over the dark, printed letter. It was a formal reprimand for "drawing attention" to "delicate matters." It made it very clear that no one was happy with him and that if things could not be settled certain "actions" would become necessary. 

__

Like terminating my association with Weiss. Heh, or just terminating period. 

Ken curled his lip in disgust and dropped the letter and the envelope onto his floor to join the other miscellaneous clutter. 

Aya watched him, waiting silently. When Ken said nothing he pressed the issue.

"What did it say?"

Ken looked up at Aya and tilted his head. "You didn't read it already?"

"Why would I read something that was meant for you?"

Ken shrugged. "Cause you can." 

Aya didn't honor his snide comment with a reply. He silently death glared the top of Ken's head instead. 

"It said they aren't happy with the attention. And I'm pretty sure it said they were going to discharge me from Weiss if this whole thing didn't get resolved." 

Aya's eyes widened in surprise, but only for a split second. He hadn't thought that Kritiker would take such drastic measures against Ken to get what tiny amount of heat he had put on them off again. It seemed a little extreme. Or maybe a lot extreme when it came down to it. The last thing Aya wanted was to lose a member of his team, especially one who had been in Weiss even longer than he had. Especially Ken. 

"They couldn't have meant that," Aya said flatly.

Ken looked up and cocked a sarcastic half-grin. "And why not? They're Kritiker. They have free license to fuck up lives at will. It's what they do," he said. 

"I'll talk to them," Aya said taking a step towards his subordinate instinctively. 

Ken narrowed his eyes, his demeanor suddenly changing. "Are you patronising me?" He asked suspiciously. Then, as if he had made up his own mind on the answer, he snapped, "Do –not- patronize me! I've had enough of your shit!" 

Aya stared back at Ken silently, one eyebrow raised slightly, his arms crossed across his chest. Ken could act like such a child. "Are you done?" he asked, his voice flat and steady as he watched Ken silently seethe from the bed.

With Aya's latest words all of Ken's agitation finally broke loose. "No I am not done! This isn't fair!" he cried, slamming his fist into his mattress. "How can they fucking blame me for this?!" 

Half expecting, but still taken aback and inexplicably annoyed by Ken's outburst, Aya threw all resolutions out the window and snapped back, "And who else should they blame?" 

"Themselves!" Ken nearly screamed getting to his feet. "They're the ones that saved me from that fire! They're the ones who took me and made me what I am today, I'm their toy, their creation and they can't even take responsibility for what they've done and what they've messed up! Not once… not once did they mention a change in identity or even try to put the thought that I should conceal who I was into my head. And how the hell was –I- supposed to know?! I was a soccer player, the whole assassin thing was a little new to me!" 

"Settle down, Ken."

"And why the hell should I? I'm right! I never asked for this, I never asked to become what I am today, Aya. Unlike you I didn't join Kritiker because I wanted to, I had no choice," Ken snapped.

"Don't drag me into this," Aya replied, his voice betraying the frayed edges of his temper. 

"You're already in it, Aya. You're the leader of Weiss, what happens to me is your responsibility. Are you going to be the one who carries out the order to 'terminate my association' with Weiss? Would you kill one of your teammates to cover up –their- dirty laundry?" 

Aya narrowed his indigo eyes, leveling them, staring hard at Ken. "No one is getting killed over this." 

"You didn't answer my question."

"I'm not going to acknowledge your absurd question with a reply."

Ken snickered, a suspicious moisture seeping into his eyes. "You would. You would take one of us out if they told you to. You'd clean up their mess for them while they shirked responsibility just like they're doing with me. What happened, -Aya-kun-? I thought you only came on board to get back at the men who hurt your baby sister. Oh but that was quite some time ago. If I remember correctly, she's quite fine now. So why are you still here? I'll tell you why, because you've become Kritiker's lapdog," Ken spat. 

He had no idea where all of this anger he had focused on Aya was coming from, but he knew it felt good get it out on something. That something just happened to be Aya.

He never saw Aya's hand coming as it flew up to backside his left cheek. Ken found himself staggering from the force of Aya's blow, and he knew he'd gone too far, way too far. And before he could even right himself, still clutching his cheek, Aya was upon him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and hauling him up to face him.

"I am –nobody's- lapdog. I stay for the same reason you stay: we don't belong anywhere else anymore. And for your information, the only thing that could ever make me kill you, Hidaka, is you shooting off your mouth. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and fix this," he growled giving the smaller man a rough shake before dropping him. 

Ken stood, eyes wide, holding his cheek. He couldn't believe he'd gotten that out of line with Aya. 

But it just wasn't fair, and everybody refused to see it. It wasn't his fault for being who he was! If Kritiker hadn't wanted agents who attracted attention to themselves then they shouldn't have made it common practice to recruit ex sports stars. It was all so stupid and all Ken wanted was for someone to agree with him, for someone else to realize that this was his life that was falling apart. He'd lost everything once, he couldn't handle losing everything again. 

He just wanted someone to be there, to care. Why couldn't someone just give a damn for once?! 

But thinking that way wasn't going to help. He had to fix things somehow if he didn't want to lose the only thing he had left, his identity with Weiss. And standing in that messy, crowded room with Aya wasn't going to help him think of a way out. 

He needed air. He needed to get away from Aya and Kritiker and that damn letter. 

Without another word the brunette straightened up and pushed past Aya. Ignoring the redhead as he called after him. 

Ken bounded down the stairs two at a time and slipped his sneakers on, still ignoring Aya's voice as it followed him down the stairs and eventually to the door that led into the shop. With an aggravated shove he burst in, pulling his leather biker jacket on, his face set and grim. 

"Oi! Ken, where are you going?!" Youji called as Ken blew past him. 

"Grocery shopping," Ken snapped. 

"But I already went grocery shopping today," Youji said lamely.

"I'm going again!" Ken yelled and then shouldered out the front door into the now waning evening light. 

As Aya walked quietly into the shop the front door had just closed again, the bell still jingling in Ken's aftermath. 

"What the hell was that about? Aya, what did you say to him?" Youji asked incredulously. 

Aya didn't even bother to turn his gaze away from the door to glare at Youji. His cold, frustrated voice was enough to shut Youji up all on its own.

"Don't you have some plants to water?" 

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to be continued

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See that button down there? Press it!! Thank you.


	3. Chapter Three : In Which Ken Learns the ...

Authors' Notes:

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Fei : *digs a trench, gets ready shields, looks for armour...*

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Marty : What on earth are you doing?

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Fei : Getting ready to get bricked, stoned, whatever....

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Marty : ... Saaa... move over *hops into trench*

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Fei : *throws a spade at Marty* Might as well make the trench more comfortable since we'll likely be staying in here for a while.

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Marty : Hai... *starts to dig* Ne, Fei? Do you really think this was a good idea? Oh, and hand me that helmet, would ya?

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Fei : *throws helmet over* What's a good idea? If you're referring to digging the trench, then yeah...-definitely-! 

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Marty : No... I meant...well you know. This. *gestures broadly* We're gonna be here for a while. INCOMING!!! 

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Fei : *ducks in panic* Already??! Man...they're fast! Well, I don't know if it's a good idea or not but it was what had to be done. So God save our souls. *prays*

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Marty : *crosses self* C'mon!! Bring on your worst! Nothing like a little trench warfare! *shakes fist at sky*

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Fei : *bats Marty's hand down* Er…I don't think you wanna do that. But then again, would love to have abuse rather than nothing at all ne?

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Marty : Hai! Something is something, but nothing sucks! 

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Fei : *nods emphatically* I'm wondering though, whether people would still bother reading after this *gestures broadly* Do you think they trust us enough? 

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Marty : Saaa... well they -ought- to. I mean, have we ever let them down? I didn't kill Ran in Sweet Hell like -everybody- thought I would. And well... White rocks so...

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Fei : Eh? Rocks? *picks up fossil* We have plenty of those here. White ones too. Argh! *ducks more incoming* Anyways, we should thank those who have so kindly left nice words for chappie 2 ne?

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Marty : *brushes debris out of hair* Hai! I just hope they stick it out... *grins*

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Fei : I really hope so too. *yanks out parchment from underneath armour and hands to Marty* You read it. Me digging deeper. 

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Marty : *clears throat* We would like to sincerely thank the following kind souls - Atsureki, Lilas, siberian, kami-chan, chibi koneko, Lola, Whisper Reilman, Carter, Moonraven, sara-chan, Windy McDohl, Katarzyna K Yue, Karyx, MooMooMilk, fuzzish, marsupial, pink bunny, Cherubkatan, Mikoto The Gnome Girl, ember-fang, Gnine, Shinigami-chan, Midnight Katana, qin neko, ryu-chan, trinchardin, Denea BloodMoon, olivia-yuymaxwell, Thespian Soldier, Seph Lorraine, and Astralkitten and hyperventilater for both reviews.

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Fei : *drops spade in dirt and collapses* Ne Marty, how much of this do you think anyone understood?

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Marty : *does quick mental calculation* 5% give or take *nods definitively*

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Fei : *chuckles* Righto. Guess they'll have to read the chappie to know the other 95% then.

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Marty : We'd better prepare ourselves. Duck and cover!

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Fei : Hai! *dons mithril* And by the way dear readers, please review, or we might not have incentive to come up from this comfortable trench ne? *disappears under huge shield*

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Disclaimer : It's not kleptomania... it's long term borrowing...

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Ink

Chapter Three

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By Marty and Fei

Ken watched the sidewalk rapidly flow under his feet. Ignoring the glances and badly concealed giggling that he left in his wake, he kept his eyes to the ground, not wanting to look up, not wanting to see. He knew where he was going. 

Yet even as his physical eyes, burning with his quick temper, focused on the gray pavement beneath him, his mind's eye turned inward, fixating on the quick temper of another.

The flash of those eyes as Ken stepped over the line. The grim sneer upon that hard face as the hand flew out of nowhere. The uncharacteristic and unexpected show of emotion from the usually taciturn young man was both unsettling and strangely satisfying. Aya the frozen statue giving way, letting the heat of his temper take over and melt his calm exterior. Ken took perverse satisfaction in knowing that he could make Aya lose it in a way that Omi and Youji never had been able to. 

Aya had even said it himself. _And for your information, the only thing that could ever make me kill you, Hidaka, is you shooting off your mouth._ For some reason those words sent a dark thrill through Ken's body. It was almost as if he held some power over Aya. It was a power that did nothing but goad him into violent outbursts every once in a while. A useless, childish power. 

__

But still, anything's better than nothing. 

Perhaps their volatility towards one another was the only connection Ken was ever fated to make with his brooding leader. He should stop trying to get into Aya's head to see what was going on behind those deep, indigo eyes. He ought to just accept that things were never going to change. He should stop letting Aya get to him. 

As much as Ken knew all of these things or at least kept telling himself that he knew them, he also knew he wasn't going to be taking his own advice any time soon. He didn't want to be estranged from his leader forever. And Ken knew himself well enough to know that until Aya made it expressly clear that there was no hope, he would keep trying to get inside that red head of his. 

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Or maybe he has already made it clear…maybe he just did, and I just can't take a hint. But then again, he let Omi inside, sorta. 

Grinding his teeth in irritation Ken stopped in front of the grocery store and then shouldered his way inside.

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Mark my words, Ran Fujimiya, one day we will understand each other, or die trying.

Roughly pushing any more lingering thoughts about Aya out of his mind, Ken grabbed a grocery basket and then came up short. Looking down into the empty basket he realized he had absolutely no reason to be at the grocery store in the first place. He had no idea why he had told Youji he was going there or why he had actually gone. It seemed pointless really. What he should have done was go for a ride, and let all of his worries be blown away by the wind in his face. And yet something had drawn him here. Perhaps it was that deep down his own morbid sense of curiosity wanted to see for itself what other havoc was being wreaked on his life this week. How many other stories were out there? What did they say? This was, he realized, the only place he could find out.

Ken cursed himself silently for being such a sorry individual and then decided he'd better start moving around before people noticed him. Not that people hadn't already started noticing. Once again keeping his eyes focused on the floor, he headed down the nearest isle.

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I guess I could always pick up some more Gatorade. At least I'll still be coaching the kids this weekend. I could get some umiboshi too and some seaweed. I guess you can never have too much pocky either. Omi has probably eaten most of it anyway. Hmmm… speaking of which, I guess I should probably check to see if they have more lemon jell-o in stock. I never did look again after that day. I could use it as a peace offering, I guess.

Ken absently rubbed his cheek where Aya had backhanded him. His eye flinched up a little at the touch. It still ached.

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Man, Aya really let me have it. Not that I can blame him. I was pretty out of line…. Lapdog? Did I really call –Aya- a lapdog? 

Ken turned down the snack isle still staring at his feet, muttering to himself and shaking his head. 

He didn't notice a young man in a tight, black, v-neck t-shirt and loose fitting, well-worn jeans look up and raise his eyebrows in surprise. He didn't notice him watching him from farther down the isle, or how one corner of his mouth tugged up into a bemused smile. No, Ken didn't notice any of these things. He just went on down the isle and stopped in front of the jell-o section, only then looking up to scan the immediate shelves for his prey.

"Zakkennayo! How can they be sold out –again-?!" he muttered loudly, staring at the conspicuous hole where the lemon jell-o should be. Ken stuck his hand into the hole, knowing his effort was futile, but unable to help himself. He pushed a few of the other boxes out of the way to see if by any chance a stray lemon had ended up in the wrong row. "Who the hell eats this much fucking lemon flavored gelatin?"

A soft chuckle caught his attention and Ken turned his head in irritation only to come up short. A young man with dark hair and smiling eyes stood holding out two boxes of jell-o. 

The man chuckled again and then ran a hand through his hair. "I do. Well, not me exactly, but I buy it. Gomen, ne? I tend to buy the store out whenever I come in. I didn't know anyone else really liked lemon flavor." 

For a moment Ken could do nothing but stare back at the man, unable to shake off the unnerving feeling that he had seen him somewhere before. Then as the man cocked his head to the side he realized where he had come across that particular air of self-confidence before. His eyes narrowed dangerously and he took half a step backwards.

The man looked confused for a moment and then started to laugh. "I take it you just recognized me, Hidaka-san," he said lightly still holding out the boxes. 

"Uchida-san, ne?" Ken said as if the name tasted slightly bitter. "I didn't recognize you without your suit and briefcase."

The man chuckled again and shrugged. "I'm not on the job. Are you going to take the jell-o or not?"

"Thanks but no thanks," Ken said, turning away, intent on getting as far away from the young reporter as possible. The last thing he needed was to be cornered in public. 

He didn't get halfway turned around when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, no need to be so defensive, Hidaka-san. I told you, I'm not on the job. I have no intention of hassling you. Besides you look like you have enough on your mind, so just take the jell-o."

Ken heard the two boxes fall into his basket, feeling their added weight. He paused before shrugging off the other man's hand and turned to look at him. He was about to throw out a few heated words, but found himself biting his tongue at the sincerity that he saw in the other man's eyes. He realized that they were an interesting color. Well, not really one color it seemed. Almost green, but mottled with flecks of brown. He'd never seen anything like it. But this train of thought seemed very far away. 

Pulling his thoughts back on the right track, Ken glowered darkly and raised an eyebrow. "Thanks," he said dryly.

Uchida shrugged. "Don't mention it. I probably shouldn't be hoarding the stuff anyway." 

Just then Ken realized that something was wrong. He stepped back again, fixing the other man with a hard stare. "Wait a second. If you're not here to try to get your 'interview' then what the hell are you doing here?"

Uchida pointed to his cart which was parked halfway down the isle. "Shopping." 

"Oh, ha ha. I meant –here- in this district. Shouldn't you be shopping in the section of the city where you live, Uchida-san?"

"I am. I live here. Just a couple blocks away, actually."

"Like hell you do! I've lived here for almost two years and I have never seen you here or anywhere else before. Don't give me that shit. You really are just here to bother me aren't you? What is wrong with you people?! Can't you just leave my life alone?!" Ken found himself practically shouting before he realized what he was doing. 

Uchida looked around hastily. "Jesus, are you –trying- to draw attention to yourself?" 

"It wouldn't really matter if I did or not since I already have at least one stalker," Ken said snidely.

Uchida straightened up and narrowed his eyes. "Oh please, don't flatter yourself. I do have better things to do with my time than chase around after some tabloid scandal star, Hidaka-san. There's real news happening in the world, so don't get all in a snit with me because you're paranoid. For your information I –do- live here. I moved here about a month ago, and the reason you don't ever see me around is because, a) due to my terrible sense of direction I still get lost every time I step outside my door and b) last time I visited your place of business I got my ass kicked to the curb by your rather rude co-workers. So as cute as you are, my interest in seeing you has been somewhat squelched."

Ken stared back at the young journalist slightly taken aback. He couldn't believe he'd just been told off by a man whose very existence threatened his privacy. He stared and continued to stare even after Uchida shrugged and turned around, walking back to his cart. Ken knew that he couldn't just turn tail and run now, all the other things he'd decided to buy were down this isle. And also because he couldn't just leave it at that, let the irritating man have the last word. His pride wouldn't let him.

He opened his mouth to make some remark, some witty rebuke, but all that came out was "Did you just say I was cute?" Damn. Did he sound like a frog or what? He tried coughing inconspicuously to clear his throat.

Uchida, having gone back to perusing the shelves, laughed out loud and shot Ken a wide grin. "Well you are cute. Just pointing out a fact." His angry demeanor was completely gone, replaced by a rather winning good humor. 

Ken was momentarily speechless, taking several steps towards the other young man. He was trying to work his ire up, trying to be outraged and scandalized. "Wait a second. Who do you think you are?! I don't even know you. You can't just say something like that to someone you don't know. I mean… ugh… you can't just tell me I'm cute and expect me to be all… fine with that."

Teijirou Uchida raised one eyebrow and then laughed again. "Oh, I'm so sorry. You're right, who am I to compliment a complete stranger? Random acts of kindness, what was I thinking? I am so sorry. You know what, you are not cute, totally not cute. Please forgive me for assuming too much. Sumimasen, Hidaka-san."

"Don't be an ass," Ken grumbled, walking past him, wanting to get farther down the isle to look for his pocky. He couldn't help but glance into Uchida's cart on the way, noting that there was pretty much nothing but varying snack foods, what looked like ten or so packages of lemon jell-o, boxes of sweet crackers, chocolate filled bear shaped cookies, and the like. There were a few packages of ramen and other instant foods mixed in, but it was mostly all snacks. 

__

He eats like a kid. 

"You're going to die young if you eat like that," Ken said as he paused in front of the pocky boxes. 

"It's not for me, but it's nice to know that you care," Uchida replied, chuckling. 

"I don't," Ken grumbled. 

"Hai hai." 

Silence settled over the isle as Ken went through the different types of pocky, searching for the flavors he knew each of his teammates preferred. He really had caused them so much trouble, he might as well buy them some pocky. 

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Strawberry for Omi, dark chocolate for Youji, flan for me, damn it… where's the crushed almond? 

Another conspicuous hole stared back at Ken where the crushed almond pocky should have been. He glanced over his shoulder warily and eyed the back of Teijirou Uchida who was debating with himself about what flavor of potato sticks was better. Ken looked down at his cart and them back up at the dark haired man. 

"I don't suppose you like to hoard almond pocky as well?" he said flatly. 

Uchida started and looked over his shoulder. "Nani? Did you say something to me?" 

"I asked if you happened to have an almond pocky fetish as well as a lemon jell-o one."

He raised his eyebrows and then started to blush, which Ken found rather disconcerting. "I did take the last three boxes," he admitted, rather chagrined. "I'm making your shopping trip rather difficult, aren't I?"

Ken gave him an annoyed look and then turned back to the pocky. "I'll just get him something else…" he muttered reaching for the red wine flavor. 

"Him? One of your co-workers? Aren't you the nice guy," Uchida mused.

"I thought you weren't going to hassle me," Ken grumbled.

"Oh hai, hai. Gomen, ne."

Giving the young journalist one more wary glance, Ken hurried down the isle, grabbing a couple packs of flavored seaweed on the way and then continued towards the drinks isle. He didn't really relish the idea of having to drag the heavy bottles back to the shop, but he figured that he might as well see what was there before he decided whether or not he was going to bother. 

A few minutes later Ken was deep in thought before the multitude of colored sports drink bottles. He was getting dizzy just looking at all the flavors, not to mention the varying sizes and brands. And the colours. Man. Pink? Blue? That shade of blue was just not natural. It just looked...wrong. 

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Wonder what kind of health defects I could get by drinking that…

Just as he was about to reach for one of the bottles, having finally made up his mind, voices broke in through his thoughts.

"Nishizaka-san, what on earth are you doing?" That voice again.

"Oh, Teijirou-kun, you shouldn't startle an old woman. I am trying to get this case of canned tea down. You'd think they would put them in places where everyone could reach."

That well-intentioned chuckle. "You are going to throw out your back, Nishizaka-san. Let me get it for you please." 

Ken turned his head to stare in disbelief. Teijirou Uchida was lifting down a small case of tea cans for a very short, slightly more than middle-aged woman who in turn was beaming at him broadly. He set the case in her cart and bowed to her slightly. 

"What would I do without you, Teijirou-kun? Arigatou gozaimasu."

"Douitashimashite*, Nishizaka-san. And if I was returning home when I was done here I would insist that you let me carry your items back to your apartment as well." 

The woman giggled like a young girl and covered her mouth. "Nonsense. I am not so old that I cannot carry my own groceries. Arigatou." 

The two nodded their heads to each other again and then Ken watched the small woman trundle away. When he snapped to again he realized that Uchida was looking at him strangely. 

"See? I am a nice guy."

"You really are stalking me aren't you?"

At this Uchida laughed out loud again and started pushing his cart down the isle towards Ken. "What did I tell you about your stalker theory? As much fun as it could be to tag along after you all through the grocery store, a much more boring need brings me to the drinks isle," he said reaching out and picking up a purple can, holding it out for Ken to see. "Juice." 

Ken rolled his eyes, decided that he didn't really want to carry any drinks home after all, and pushed his cart back down the isle, passing by Uchida and his cart as quickly as he could. 

Ken figured that he would be safe as soon as he was in the checkout line. Then he could just get out of there and away from Teijirou Uchida. He tried not to pay any attention to the looks he kept getting from the other customers in the checkout lines. He scanned the registers and was glad to see that Obaasan didn't seem to be there. He didn't want to see the look on her face or answer any of the questions he knew she would ask. It was all so embarrassing. He wasn't exactly sure how he was going to face the parents of his soccer kids either for that matter. 

Sighing heavily he set his purchases down on the counter. He ignored the wide eyed look that the young cashier gave him, trying not to meet her eyes. 

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Yes, even scandalous, perverted ex-celebrities who are supposed to be dead need to buy groceries. Just ring it up, bitch. 

He dropped a few thousand yen on the counter and went to put his groceries into bags. He neither felt the malicious eyes on his back, nor saw the group of young men who were crowded around a magazine rack nod to each other and exit the store. A few moments later he had his groceries in hand and was on his way out the door. 

The sun was well on its way to setting, but the street was still bathed in a pale, rosy light. Ken found that it didn't match his mood. Although amazingly enough his encounter with Teijirou Uchida had in some way managed to diffuse Ken's anger and anxiety over his encounter with Aya. Taking a deep breath he concentrated on what he would say to the redhead when he got back to the Koneko.

He'd made it almost all the way down the block before he noticed the three guys following him. Ken sighed in frustration and hunched his shoulders. He stole a hasty glance backwards, only to find two more guys in front of him when he looked back. He almost ran into one of them, but managed to pull himself up short. 

"Oi. You oughta be careful where you're going, ne," the larger of the two said, crossing his arms, and looking down at Ken with bland, sneering eyes. The two wore ugly, worn out biker jackets, and Ken had to wonder absently if pants with that many holes in them could still qualify as pants. The smaller guy, the sidekick, had spiky, multi- colored hair, while the other sported a bleached punch perm. Ken had never really anticipated meeting people in his life who had worse fashion sense than himself, but here was living proof that the eighties really hadn't died. 

As he was making these observations the other three came up behind him, ringing him in. Ken closed his eyes and muttered under his breath. He didn't need this.

"Hey, haven't I seen you somewhere before?" the ringleader asked, although it wasn't a question really. Ken sighed at his bad acting. This guy wasn't even soap opera worthy. The other guys muttered under their breath for a moment and then one of the sidekicks snapped his fingers, mocking enlightenment. He silently handed his friend what was obviously a copy of the same tabloid Youji had brought into the Koneko earlier that morning. 

"Oh, that's right. You're that okama* who works up the street, ne? You've sure been in the papers a lot lately, you know that?" he asked, taking a step towards Ken. He held out the tabloid in front of Ken's face and shook it slightly. "So what do you say, is this story true. You really some pervy fag?"

Ken pushed the tabloid out of his face and raised an eyebrow. "It's not really any of your business is it?" Ken had to wonder at himself for a moment. He had to wonder why he didn't just deny it and say the whole thing was stupid. Most likely because it was the principal of the matter. It really wasn't any of anyone's business. Besides that he wasn't at all worried.

They were just street punks, a small biker gang most likely. Just a group of kids, really. They didn't have a chance against Ken even if they didn't know it. Ken knew it, and that was all that mattered. But then again the last thing he needed was to make a scene on the street, to draw more attention to himself.

He could just hear Aya chewing him out for bringing his fighting abilities to the attention of the media. He could see those angry, flashing eyes, and the way Aya's jaw got tight when he was pissed. Ken's lips quirked into a slight smile. In a far off, distant way, it made Ken feel strangely satisfied. 

"Seems silly to me. All this fuss being made over some faggy look alike," the gang leader's voice broke through Ken's thoughts. "Personally I just don't see the resemblance. After all fags don't play soccer. Do they?" 

Ken bit his tongue and looked directly into the other man's eyes. "I really need to get back to work." 

"Yeah? Your boyfriends gonna miss you?" he snarled. The others laughed ingratiatingly. Oh wasn't their leader so clever. Oh what a witty guy. 

"I don't really want to play with you right now," Ken snapped and then pushed forward, trying to shove past the first two guys, but carrying his groceries made it hard for him to really push them out of the way. 

The leader grabbed the front of his shirt and with a strength that Ken hadn't expected, shoved him back against the brick wall of the building. He grunted upon impact. That was going to leave a bruise. He felt thick, sweaty fingers close around his jaw, yanking his face up, meeting the punch perm guy's piggy little eyes. 

The group of men all chuckled harshly.

"You know, maybe I see it now. You are kinda cute like a girl. You got those big brown eyes, ne. And I bet you scream like a girl too. Especially when-"

At this point Ken decided to block the guy's voice out and concentrated on his nose. His big ugly nose. Hmm…if he dropped his groceries he could ram the heel of his hand right into the guy's nose, up into his head if he wanted to. He could kill him if he wanted to too. But Ken didn't really feel like dropping his groceries. Not now that he'd finally gotten Aya's lemon jell-o back. And besides that the commotion it would cause was not something he wanted to have to deal with, not with everything else going on. And then he'd have to deal with Aya again. 

__

Man, this guy needs to lay off the pickled eel, Jesus. Would you mind not breathing on me? I think I might pass out just from the stench. 

"I bet I can make you scream like a girl? Wanna find out?"

"Not really," Ken grunted and was about to drop his groceries, having decided that a knee to the solar plexus would be the way to go. 

"Hanase! Hey, you there, get away from him!" That voice again. Oh great. Just what Ken needed. A would be savior. 

The street punks paused and turned towards Teijirou who was making a less than imposing figure of himself due to the fact that he was mostly hidden behind several very large, very full grocery bags of snack food. He glared out past the side of one bag, squinting in the fading light and took a few uncertain steps forward, jerking nervously as a box of crackers threatened to tumble onto the street.

A few of them chuckled dryly, and the guy with the punch perm tightened his grip on both Ken's jacket and his face. "Who are you? Another okama boyfriend?" 

"Shut up. I said let him go. Now back off or I promise you, you will be sorry," Uchida growled. 

Ken raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, standing perfectly still, not betraying the turning wheels in his head. This might be an ever better way to get out of the situation. He could avoid drawing attention to himself altogether. Although he wasn't sure how much help Teijirou Uchida was going to be. 

The gang members laughed again, jostling each other. "What are you gonna do? Lob snack boxes at us?" 

Teijirou almost overbalanced his bags, but managed not to as he rummaged around in his pocket for something. "Well I could. But that probably wouldn't be as effective as having take down the license numbers of your bikes and having a cell phone with which to call the police. Assault isn't usually something the police look on too kindly." 

The laughing stopped. The grips loosened on Ken. 

"You're lying, you don't fuckin' have our bike numbers," the leader snapped, but he didn't sound so sure.

"Well… I guess that's a gamble you'll have to take, now isn't it? Play nice and get the fuck away from him. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Don't you have anything better to do with your time than hassle strangers? Kids these days."

There was a tense pause and then Ken felt the grip on his jacket tighten again as he was slammed back against the wall in anger. Unprepared, he gasped as the back of his head whacked against the unforgiving bricks. Again the salty breath on his face. 

"I fuckin' hate faggots!"

And then the grip was gone. The leader stood up straight and motioned to his friends. "Let's go, guys. Fun's over." 

The five of them grumbled, glaring at Teijirou as they made their way back up the street. A couple of them jostled him as they past, the last of these causing him to lose the precarious balance he had with his groceries, sending the whole mess spilling onto the sidewalk. 

Ken heard Uchida grunt in protest before he suddenly felt a wave of vertigo wash over him. His knees trembled, causing him to slide to the pavement, still gulping for breath, setting his groceries aside. 

__

I must have whacked my head harder than I thought. 

"Hidaka-san?!" Ken heard Uchida's voice again and then felt his decidedly masculine presence beside him. "Daijoubu ka?" 

"E-ee. I think I hit my head pretty hard, but I'm fine," he said stiffly.

He felt cool fingers on his skin as his chin was gently lifted and his hair brushed aside. Ken found himself looking up into the strangely worried face of Teijirou Uchida. In the dim twilight his features seemed softened somehow. He was taken off guard by how Uchida's eyes managed to glow despite the lack of clear light, and Ken found himself contemplating their strange beauty once again.

__

I really must have hit my head harder than I thought. Sheesh.

Then suddenly the streetlights flickered on, bathing the sidewalk in a harsh, artificial light. Ken winced at the sudden intensity and closed his eyes. Uchida leaned over farther, casting Ken's face in shadow and made a little tsking sound, pulling down the skin around Ken's eye. "Open your eyes again, Hidaka-san." 

Not really knowing why he should comply Ken grumbled, but then obeyed. The other man peered at Ken intently for a moment and then sighed, taking his hand away. "Well your eyes aren't anymore dilated than they should be, so you probably don't have a concussion. Are you alright other than that? They didn't do anything else to you?"

Ken had to laugh at this and shook his head, pushing Uchida's hands farther away. "No, I'm fine. In fact I had everything under control."

"Suuure you did. That's why you were backed up against the wall." 

Ken just chuckled and shook his head again. _No but I really did._

He looked back at the young man and tried to smile. "Are you sure you really aren't just stalking me?"

Uchida laughed out loud again and much to Ken's disgruntlement had the nerve to reach out and tousle his brown hair. "You'd like to think so, wouldn't you?"Then he turned away, looking back at his groceries. "Aw, shit. What a mess." 

Ken watched as he got to his feet and walked back to the scattered contents of his bags. After a moment Ken got up and followed a bit more shakily, hunkering down beside the dark haired man, helping to gather up the groceries. He noticed that Teijirou shot him an unreadable glance. 

"Na, Uchida-san?" Ken said after a moment.

"Hai?"

"Did you really take down those guys' bike numbers in the time between leaving the store and getting here? I mean, how could you have known where they were?"

Teijirou chuckled. "I may have been lying about that."

Ken gave him a hard look. "And what were you going to have done if they'd called your bluff?"

Teijirou's hand brushed against Ken's as he reached out to grab a juice can. "Etoo…Break out my ju-jitsu?"

Ken raised his eyebrow and mouthed _yeah, right._ Teijirou chuckled and put the last box of pocky into the last grocery bag. 

"Sorry about this mess," Ken murmured under his breath, getting to his feet. 

Teijrou shrugged. "I know how you can make it up to me."

Ken's eyes snapped up dangerously. "Don't even, for one minute think that I am going to give you an interview because if you think this little stunt-"

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Teijirou said, putting his hands up defensively. "No, nothing like that. Settle down Hidaka-san."

Ken narrowed his eyes. "Then what do you want?"

"Just help me carry these groceries where they need to go, and I promise I will leave you alone." 

*****

__

Ken no baka. Should have just stayed in the Koneko. Aya no baka. Uchida no BAKA!

For the umpteenth time that night, Ken found himself cursing as he struggled to see where he was going behind the mountains of groceries. Ask him now and he would be able to describe to you -exactly- how a brown paper bag smelt like. Why did he have to do this anyway? It was not as if he had asked Uchida for his help in the first place.

He let out another small grunt of pain as the sharp corner of god-knows-what that was in the bag dangling from his arm bumped into his calf once more. Again, he let out a muttered curse.

"Huh? Nani?" Came a muffled voice from slightly in front of him.

"Nandemo nai*." Ken muttered before lapsing into silence again. It was bad enough that his misplaced conscience had ordered him to help Uchida with his groceries, but he would not be caught making polite conversation while on the way to… where the hell were they going anyway?

Steaming silently, Ken weighed his options - to ask or not to ask. To ask meant that he would have to talk to this Uchida guy who was confusing him even more with each passing second. Not to ask meant he would have to trust that this confusing-him-even-more-with-each-passing-second-Uchida guy would not be leading him to a slaughterhouse. Or worse, a room filled with reporters.

Ken made up his mind as his calf was treated to another painful bump.

"Ne, dokou e ikun da yo*?" It'd better not be much farther. And Uchida had better not tell him he had lost his way. Jell-o boxes could make very mean missiles if thrown correctly.

"We're almost there already. Just round that corner." Came the cheerful reply. Ken heard shuffling as Uchida jostled his bags into a more comfortable position. "Arigatou na Hidaka-san. I didn't realize I had bought so many groceries. Guess I overdid it ne?" He chuckled.

Yeah. Right. Why was Uchida complaining anyway when he had the better deal? And for that matter, why was Ken carrying more groceries then he was? Oh yeah. 'Cos that idiot had to see where he was going in order to lead the way. Despite his brooding, Uchida's light laughter somewhat eased Ken's mood, and he found himself relaxing just a teensy bit. But there was still something bugging him. 

"Are we headed back to your house?" Ken really didn't like that idea. Walking along with Uchida was weird enough already. He certainly was not prepared to step into his lair. What was that advice he had heard when he was a kid? Never follow strangers anywhere? A bit too late for that now wasn't it?

"Ie ie! What would I be doing with all these snacks at home? Unless I have a hoard of young kids. I'm not married yet in case you're wondering." He chuckled again. Ken found himself wondering what was so funny.

"We're just dropping this off before I head home." Uchida continued. "And here we are!" 

Ken bumped lightly into Uchida's back before realizing that the man in front of him had stopped suddenly. He wrestled with the groceries for a while, thankful that they hadn't dropped, before peeking out in between the bags. His mouth dropped slightly as he found himself looking at a familiar church.

"Nan..nanda? This is where we were going?" Wide chocolate eyes turned to the dark-haired man who was gazing at Ken with a bemused smile on his face. Those mesmerizing eyes looked almost fondly at him, and Ken found himself dropping his gaze, suddenly uncomfortable. He eyed the church again, the same one that he had to pass every weekend while on his way to coach soccer.

Of all the places they could be headed for, he never thought he would find himself here. Why would Uchida come to a church at this time of the night? Then again, why was he so surprised? He didn't really know this man in the first place.

"Ne? Iku zo*?" Uchida's voice cut into his thoughts and turning, Ken saw that the young journalist was looking quizzically at him. Well, might as well help him all the way ne? Ken nodded, following silently as Uchida walked up the path.

Reaching the heavy oak doors, he watched as Uchida raised his foot and lightly tapped the door several times. Several times more when there was no answer. Ken fidgeted slightly. Was there anyone around? He wanted to get this over with and go home already.

"Marianne-san! Could someone open the door please?…Ne, dare ka*?" Ken watched, somewhat amused, as Uchida started hopping slightly on one foot to keep his precarious balance, while continuing to tap the door with his other foot.

Both Ken and Uchida heaved sighs of relief when running footsteps could be heard within the church and a voice answered the summons.

The door soon opened to reveal a young woman, who beamed once she saw Uchida. "Teijirou-san! We weren't expecting you today. So nice to see you though." Ken had to smile as the beaming face was turned to him. "Oh hello there! To whom do I owe this pleasure?"

Ken bowed as well as he could what with the tons of groceries in his hands. "Hidaka Ken desu. Hajimemashitte. Douzo yoroushiku.*" 

"Aa Hidaka-san. Nice to meet you too. I'm Marianne." Turning to Teijirou, Marianne smiled brightly. "So nice of you to bring your friend for a visit Teijirou-san." 

Friend? Ken fidgeted slightly at the word. He once more caught Uchida's bemused glance and turned away, unsettled.

"Ken here helped me to bring some snacks over." Uchida announced as he was ushered in by the woman. Ken followed, biting his lip. Ken? Since when were they on first name basis? He plastered on an awkward smile as the Marianne thanked him profusely. Like he even knew what the hell was going on.

His mind was distracted, however, as they wandered through the halls of the quaint church. So peaceful. So quiet. Ken walked solemnly, listening to their footfalls echoing in the silent corridor. How long had it been since he was in a church? He couldn't remember. He missed the serene atmosphere. But with his life now, what right had he to be setting foot in this kind of establishment? He felt depression creeping up on him and tried to turn his thoughts away.

Marianne and Uchida were chatting amiably, something about the other parishioners attending a meeting. But Ken, lost in his thoughts, did not really make out what was said. His attention was caught however, when he heard the words "kids".

Looking up, he saw that they had entered a kitchen of some sort. Tuning into the conversation, he heard Marianne saying as she helped unload Teijirou's groceries: "Mou…you really pamper them too much. They've gone home for the day already. I'll bet they would have wanted to stay if they'd known you were coming. Minoru-chan was asking for you. He missed you a lot. You have such a way with the kids Teijirou-san."

"Kids?" Ken blurted out, curious.

"Hai!" Marianne beamed again. So pretty, her smile. "We have preschool for them here during the day, and Teijirou-san volunteers whenever he has the time. You should see him with them. They love him! He's gonna be a real good father one day, though he keeps saying it's unlikely he'll have kids of his own."

"Maa maa…" Uchida blushed and Ken could only stare wide-eyed. Him? Volunteering with kids? That so did not fit Ken's image of the Prada-toting, immaculately-clad, I-want-my-story journalist. But then again, the young parishioner couldn't be lying. Uchida was certainly full of surprises. And not all bad ones it seemed.

"Anou…these are for them then?" Ken lifted the groceries in his hands as best as he could. 

"Aa. Warui warui*!" Uchida came forward and started divesting Ken of his burdens. "Yeah. It's for the kids. I wanted to give these to them but guess I got here a bit late." Once again, his fingers lightly brushed Ken's as he took the last bag away. "Thanks for helping me with these, Ken." A charming smile as hazel eyes locked onto chocolate-brown, and this time, Ken found that he couldn't look away.

Fortunately, he was rescued by Marianne. "Na, Teijirou-san, will you be free next Tuesday? Aisawa-kun's mother will not be able to make it that day and we're kind of short-handed…" the girl trailed off as she looked at Teijirou, slightly chagrined. "I know you are busy…"

"Daijoubu daijoubu. Tuesday's alright for me. I'm looking forward to spending a day with the kids." Teijirou, who had been busying himself with stuffing the snacks into cupboards, caught a glimpse of Ken's confusion reflected on a glass panel. He smiled and added: "I come and help look after the kids in the day when I can. The church doesn't have money to employ people and so parents and sometimes singles like me volunteer to take shifts." 

He laughed as he turned back to the brunette. "It's cool. Sometimes I wonder whether it's me taking care of the kids, or them taking care of me. I seldom have the chance to spend time with kids now and I…I kinda miss it." The last was said rather quietly and Ken couldn't help but wonder at the slightly wistful expression on Teijirou's face. He didn't realize he was staring until Uchida looked up and shot him another charming smile. Ken turned away quickly and felt his face heating up.

He blushed even more as he heard Uchida's hearty laughter. "Saa. Ninmu kanryou*, as Atsuro-kun would say." Marianne laughed along. "Na Ken. Shall we go?"

"A..Aa…" Still somewhat taken aback by the happenings, Ken forgot to protest at the use of his first name again. Anyway, it would be kinda rude and embarrassing for Uchida if he did that in front of Marianne, though he didn't know why he cared. He could only obey as Uchida clapped a hand on his shoulder and turned him back towards the corridor. He lightly shrugged the hand off as they approached the main door of the church.

"Saa. Mata na* Marianne-san." Uchida smiled warmly at the young parishioner, who bowed and then looked towards Ken. 

"Hidaka-san, do come and visit when you have the time ne? Maybe you could come with Teijirou-san. I'm sure the kids would love to have you around."

Ken couldn't help smiling. "Hai. I'm sure I'd enjoy it. Dewa…jya na."

They walked in silence, and it wasn't until they came to the end of the pathway that Uchida turned to Ken again. "So, it wasn't that bad was it?"

"Huh?" Ken looked up at the dark-haired man, studying the smiling face. He was confused. In a few mere hours, this man had completely overthrown whatever preconceptions Ken had of him. He stuck to his word and didn't harass him for an interview. He helped when Ken was in trouble. He was kind to old ladies. He bought snacks for little kids, and even volunteered to take care of them. Was this guy too good to be true or what? 

Ken felt some of his cynicism rising. Was this all a show? But the church was there. And Marianne…she couldn't be part of it, could she?

"I said it wasn't that bad right? Helping me deliver the groceries?" Uchida cocked his head to one side, returning Ken's scrutiny.

"No. No it wasn't." He had to admit it. It wasn't what he expected, but it was alright, almost like he was doing something normal with a…friend.

But this man before him wasn't his friend, Ken reminded himself as he looked up into those smiling eyes again. This was a guy who wanted a story, wanted to unearth his past. He couldn't let down his guard around him…could he?

"Sankyuu na." Uchida stuck out a hand. Ken looked at the outstretched limb for a while, before slowly, haltingly, reaching out to take it. Uchida's grasp was firm. His hand felt smooth and warm. And despite himself, Ken relaxed slightly. That moment passed quickly however, as he realized that Uchida was holding his hand slightly longer than necessary. He tensed slightly and pulled away, frowning.

Uchida let out a sheepish laugh and scratched the back of his neck. "So, I guess you'll be headed back now Ken? Er…Hidaka-san?" He amended quickly as Ken shot him a dark look. "I would offer to buy you coffee but I guess you wouldn't be ready to accept would you?"

"No." Ken shot back quickly, then felt a little guilty at Uchida's suddenly downcast expression. He lifted the bag of groceries he still had in his hand. "Need to get these back." He explained, then berated himself almost immediately. Why did it concern him how Uchida felt? Damn him and his conscience.

"So…erm…I hope to see you again Hidaka-san?" Ken looked up, ready to retort, but the words caught in his throat as he was once again surprised by Uchida's sincere expression. Somehow, the young man didn't seem like he was saying it just 'cos he wanted a story. As for what other reason could be leading him to act this way, Ken didn't want to know.

Ken made a noncommittal sound and shrugged, then pointed a thumb backwards. "I'm heading that way."

"Yeah. I know." Uchida laughed. "I'm not really -that- dense when it comes to directions. I'm heading that way though." He too jerked a thumb backwards. "Saa…it was nice meeting you today. Mata na." Again, that sincere smile.

Ken allowed himself a quick nod before turning and striding away. He could feel Uchida's gaze though, boring into his back, and he shuddered inwardly. What was with that guy? Why was Uchida getting to him like that? He quickened his pace, wanting to put as much distance as he could between them as quickly as possible.

It wasn't until the bag got tangled in-between his legs that he remembered the groceries. Bringing the bag up, he eyed the assortment of pocky, seaweed, and the lemon jell-o.

__

Aya…

Ken realized that his encounter with Uchida had managed to distract him from his musings involving his unfathomable leader. He hadn't thought about the redhead and their fight for awhile now.

Bringing his hand up to his cheek again, Ken touched it gingerly. Nope. Didn't hurt that much now. Well, didn't hurt as bad as that knock on the back of his head anyway. Ken sighed, wondering whether Aya had gotten over the incident earlier that evening. He knew Omi and Youji would appreciate the snacks, but Aya? Would he still be angry?

Perhaps he really would have to die trying before he could understand the redhead.

__

Let's just hope the lemon jell-o's enough for now…

_____________

to be continued

_____________

* **Douitashimashite** - Don't mention it

* **Okama** - Japanese slang for homosexual, similar to the term "fag"

* **Nandemo nai** - Nothing at all

* **Dokou e ikun da yo?** - Where (are we) going?

* **Iku zo** - Let's go

* **Dare ka?** - Anybody?

* **Hajimemashitte. Douzo yoroushiku** - A standard Japanese greeting, meaning something like 'Nice to meet you for the first time. How do you do?' 

* **Warui **- In Japanese it means something to the effect of "That's so wrong of me", similar to "I'm so sorry."

* **Ninmu kanryou** - Mission accomplished. One of Gundam Wing pilot Heero Yuy's favourite term.

* **Mata na** - Later

Review! Review! Review!

Thank you na!


	4. Chapter Four : In Which Aya Gets His Way

Authors' Notes:

**Marty : *looks up blearily, blinking and batting away sleep bubbles* Ne, ne Fei-chan... *shakes Fei* I think we dozed off, what time is it??**

**Fei : *shoots upright* ETHNE!!!! *blinks wildly* Huh? What? Oh time... erm... hang on. *rummages for battered watch* It's ... erm... ehehe... it's broken. And are we still here??!**

**Marty : .  Fei... were you having naughty dreams again? Hold on I'll find out the time. *whips out satellite linked power computer* Let's see it's.... 2:21... September the 14! ^_^ .......... -_-  ......... -_-;;;;;  Wait a second that means.... we've been sleeping for over half a year??!**

**Fei : O.O  Holy cow.... how did time pass so fast?! *peeps out of trench* Is anybody still out there? Are they all gone?? *teary eyes* Na Marty, I think we really did it this time. Shit... told you indulging Brann and Ethne would not be a good idea. *mopes* Maybe we should go back to sleep... *looks at trench lovingly* Then again, maybe we should just apologise sincerely and hope someone's listening. *looks pointedly at Marty***

**Marty : *blanches and laughs nervously* Ah... sou deshyou... *clears throat* Well alright. *rubs back of neck* I know I've been a little, er... out of commission for the past few... months, but not without semi-good reason! I had a really stressful job and... and... it was summer! So we couldn't coordinate our schedules!! **

**Fei : *nods nods* The whole 17-hr apart thingy again. **

**Marty : And... and.... *hangs head* Okay, I'm a lazy ho who had writer's block. Gomen... gomen nasai!! *hangs head in shame and weeps***

**Fei : *pets pets* Mou...it's okay. I'm sure the wonderful readers will understand... I think. ^^;;  And you're not the only one caught up with crap in real life. I mean, although I had written my part here some time back, I have been neglecting my other baby ... *sniffles* Gomen gomen. *hurts self* Well, in case any of our dear readers are still here, I guess we should move on to thank some people ne?**

**Marty : Hai! *looks around* Where did I put that piece of paper... *picks up a wadded piece of paper that's obviously been lain on* Oh... there it is. *sheepishly hands it to Fei* Well on the up side I think the shelling stopped... *looks up at lip of trench***

**Fei : *mumbles* Anybody would have run out of ammunition after half a year. *coughs* Okay... we'll like to thank _Carter Tachikawa, Prodigy, Yaoke, sara-chan, MooMooMilk, Carrothien, Gnine, sykoanimechick, Talaco, chibi koneko-chan, ember-fang, Isa-chan, Astralkitten, Lola-chan, Moonraven, Perfectly Windy Sky, Seph Lorraine, Rika-neechan, Jin, Lilas, kami-chan, Windy-kun, Katarzyna K Yue, Whisper-chan, pink bunny, Sayiera, Kuroi Atropos, futagiakuma-tenshi02 and 01, kiske, bri-chan, Ayako, gin neko, Shi-koi, Zeto, Nekocin and Aishiteru. Hope you're still around to read this._**

**Marty : *nods nods* And in case anyone is –still- wondering, we do not own the glorious boys of Weiss. And that's why we need Brann and Ethne. *huggles them***

**Fei : Hehe. Well, read on folks!**

**Ink**

**Chapter Four**

_By Marty and Fei_

Whichever idiot coined the saying that bad luck comes in threes obviously didn't know what the hell they were talking about, and Ken Hidaka wanted to thrash them for it.

Just take his day for example. He'd had a huge fight with his oh-so-aggravating leader, a run-in with a group of oh-so-irritating and so-not-making-it James Dean wannabes, and then got stuck with the oh-so-confusing Mr Journalist turned good Samaritan. That was three wasn't it? He couldn't have counted incorrectly, bad as he was at mathematics. So nothing else should go wrong right? Right?!

Wrong. Oh-so-fucking wrong!

And this revelation was drummed into Ken's head by big, splattering raindrops that decided to hurtle down on him unannounced when he was barely more than halfway back to the safety of the Koneko.

Cursing his luck, Ken started to sprint. Quick as he was, he couldn't outrun the rain and by the time he caught sight of the shop, he was a soaking mess - chocolate hair plastered to his face, raindrops dripping from long lashes like frustrated tears, T-shirt and jeans clinging uncomfortably to his trim form.

He didn't know whom he wanted to beat up more: the idiot who came up with the bad luck saying, or the other idiot who proclaimed that strolling in the rain was romantic. Or maybe he should just rearrange the pretty face of Teijirou Uchida. If it wasn't for the little detour he took with that damned journo he would be all warm and snuggled up in bed by now.

_'Damn him! He'd better be as wet as I am or I'm personally gonna drown him like how I usually drown those potted plants!'_

The fuming brunette dashed the last few meters to the front door, and then balanced the disintegrating bag of groceries on his knee while rummaging desperately in his pockets for the keys. It didn't take him long to realize that he had forgotten them during his hasty departure from the shop. 

Moaning in dismay, Ken ran a hand through his drenched locks in frustration, blinking the wetness from his eyes as he took in the drawn shutters and darkness within the Koneko. Damn it! The others must be upstairs in the cozy comfort of their rooms at this time of the night. 

"Omi?!" Ken yelled while thumping his fist against the glass door. "Youji! Somebody open up! I'm freezing here!" 

He thumped a few more times for good measure, if only to somewhat let out his frustration, before giving up, banging his head lightly against the glass panel. Who was he kidding? With his luck, what were the chances that anyone would hear him?

Sighing, Ken closed his eyes and rested his aching head against the door. He so didn't need this. He just wanted a hot shower, a good cup of tea, and then to curl up on his bed and not think about anything else. Couldn't he get a break? Just a little one?

It was a little while more before he straightened himself with determination, brown eyes hard and glinting. That was it. He'd taken enough shit for one day. He'd try the back door, and he'd pick the lock if he had to. No way was he going to spend the night outside in the miserable rain. Not even if he was gonna get flak from his oh-so-righteous leader tomorrow for giving people ideas about breaking and entering.

Mind made up, Ken cradled the bag of groceries protectively against his chest, lowered his head, and dashed towards the back of the shop, splashing through puddles without even noticing, not that he could get any wetter. 

It wasn't until he was right on the back doorstep that he looked up, and then almost crowed with joy and relief. 

The lights were on!

A smile breaking out on his face, Ken almost threw himself at the door. Maybe Youji was up, preparing for a hot date. Or maybe Omi. He hoped it was the blonde bishounen, then maybe he could wrangle a cup of tea out of him. Oh what the heck, he didn't care who the hell it was as long as they let him in.

"Open up! It's me. Come on, open open op…"

The door snapped open with a startled ferocity, and the shout died in Ken's throat as his pounding hand froze in mid-air.  He found himself staring into a pair of unamused indigo eyes.

_'Shit. Of all people…'_

Forget that statement about not caring who the hell it was. He certainly hadn't expected Aya.

Tensing, Ken could only stand there, hand lowering uncertainly as he watched the critical gaze of the redhead move from his head right down to his toes, and then back up again. He felt a shiver run up his spine as he met those intense eyes. He recalled emotions drug up by his earlier encounter with Aya and felt their weight crash down on him. Ken hugged himself tightly, crushing the soaked bag against his chest.  Brown eyes stared mutely at his leader, and Ken willed him to say something, do something. He didn't want another fight though. Not when he was still feeling guilty about what he had said before.

It was a wonder he didn't collapse onto the ground in relief when the redhead, not uttering a single word, turned and moved away from the door, leaving it wide open for him to enter. Releasing a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, Ken ordered his feet to take the few steps forward into the warm kitchen, closing the door behind him with his head bowed.

When he finally worked up the courage to look up again, he blinked in confusion. Aya was nowhere to be seen. A quick look around the room revealed a kettle bubbling merrily on the stove, a pack of Earl Grey tea laid out on the counter, and Aya's usual mug standing stoically by its side. It would appear that the redhead was preparing to have a nice, hot drink. But where had he gone? Did he so badly want to avoid Ken's company?

Still standing just inside the door, dripping miserably onto the doormat, Ken felt an inexplicable pang of disappointment shoot through him, causing him to blink in surprise. Shouldn't he be glad that he didn't have to face the redhead at all? He'd probably just get another dressing down. So why then, did he suddenly feel so alone?

God forbid, but did he actually yearn for Aya's company?

That thought itself was so unbelievable that it was actually amusing, and Ken found himself chuckling. No. It was just that he was stressed out with the events of the night. He was tired, and he wanted some comfort, a friendly face. He chuckled even more, albeit somewhat bitterly, at associating those attributes with Aya.

_'I would have more luck with Uchida than with Mr. Iceman himself.'_

The chuckling abruptly stopped as he suddenly slumped backward against the door. It was as if all energy had been sapped out of him, and without warning, he could feel a wave of depression washing over him. Ken shook his head and smiled bitterly.

_'Get a grip Hidaka. What the hell is wrong with you?'_

Staggering upright, Ken stumbled a few steps to a drawn out chair, slumping into it heavily while depositing his possessions haphazardly onto the table. Closing his eyes, he rested his wet head on his equally wet arms. He should make it upstairs to his room and dry himself off. But he was just so tired.

He didn't know how long he sat there, didn't know where his mind drifted off to. It was only when a cough rang out in the room that he shot upright, blinking dazedly. Turning his head, he stared blankly at the figure standing in the doorway. 

Aya. When had he come back?

His heart started thudding a little faster as the redhead strolled gracefully towards him.  Ken's wide brown eyes held the gaze of his leader. He continued to stare as Aya stopped before him, and then he blinked once more as something soft, white and fluffy was thrust into his hands. 

A towel. Aya had brought him a towel.

His chest tightened as he looked back up at his leader, his throat suddenly caught as a feeling of gratitude rose up within him. Aya was still looking at him, an indecipherable expression in his deep eyes. It was the redhead who finally broke the heavy silence.

"Dry yourself. You're going to catch a cold."

Ken mutely obeyed, hands raising the towel to mechanically run through his hair as his eyes followed the movements of his leader. He watched as Aya lifted the kettle off the stove and poured hot water into his mug, and then hesitated before reaching up to the cupboard above and taking out Ken's cup. A surge of warmth and guilt shot through him as he watched his teammate. Aya was making tea for him. 

Suddenly feeling too emotional for his own good, he scrubbed the towel vigorously over his face. The wetness he was wiping away was the rain, nothing more. At least that was what he told himself.

It took a while for him to regain his composure. He drew the towel away just in time to see a steaming cup of tea placed in front of him. Dropping the damp cloth onto his lap, he cradled the warm porcelain in his hand, gratefully absorbing the heat. Lowering his gaze, he studied the swirling brown liquid, his thoughts in a whirl themselves. 

He hadn't expected this from Aya. Not the towel. Not the tea. And he was at a loss as to how to react. He wanted to apologize for his outburst earlier. Wanted to make peace with his leader, even more than before. Wanted to curse himself for his unkind thoughts just minutes ago. It would appear that he really didn't know Aya. Wasn't even close. Sensing his teammate sitting down across from him, he mumbled quickly, "Arigatou." 

There was no answer, however; he could only sit in awkward silence.

Minutes ticked by, and surprisingly, Ken found himself relaxing. It was strange, sitting here in the kitchen with Aya, sipping his tea, neither of them talking. Yet it was not unpleasant. On the contrary, the brunette felt somewhat more settled, calmer than he had felt in days.

Sneaking a peek at the man opposite him, he saw that Aya, like him, was staring into his tea, brooding as usual. Ken felt a small smile tugging uncontrollably at his lips as he studied his stoic leader. A strange man, Aya was. So tightly reined in, so guarded in showing his feelings. Once again, Ken found himself wondering what it would take to get him to open up, well, other than pissing the shit out of him. 

Thoughts once more drawn back to their less than amicable encounter, Ken sighed.

"Aya?" He ventured tentatively, feeling the need to reach out to him. He hesitated briefly as dark eyes raised to meet his own. Steeling his resolve, Ken forged ahead, though part of him badly wanted to cling onto the rare sense of silent companionship he had found with his teammate moments before.

"About earlier…gomen."

He didn't flinch at the short, but intense gaze given to him. Other than that, there was again, no answer. 

Ken bit back an audible sigh.  Gripping his cup tightly, he took another sip of the sweet liquid. 

_'At least he's not tearing my throat out. Stop dreaming Hidaka. He may not be as cold as he looks but he's still frigid like a sculpture of…'_

"Ice."

Ken choked and nearly dropped his cup at the soft voice. A few seconds of awkward fumbling saved it from shattering, though he could not stop the tea sloshing out and scalding his hands, which were shaking when he set the porcelain mug back on the table. Breathing somewhat harshly, he looked up with wide, bewildered eyes at his leader.

"What?" He croaked out, his heart beating violently in his chest. Had Aya managed to read his thoughts?

Frowning, Aya stared at him, probably wondering why a simple word would get him so flustered. The few seconds of silence seemed like an eternity to Ken, as he took shallow breaths to calm his pounding heart. His gaze was riveted to pale, slender fingers as they were raised to tap lightly against an ivory cheek. Was this some sign language he was supposed to be able to decipher? Sad to say, he was so not getting it.

"Ice." Aya finally deigned to repeat patiently, looking like he was entertaining an idiot. "You should put some on your cheek. It's starting to bruise."

Ken gaped at him, not knowing what to say. He knew that that was as close to an apology as he could get out of the redhead. But it was enough, more than enough. He bit his lips as he continued to stare at his leader. How long had he yearned for Aya to show some form of emotion, some form of concern towards him? But now that he had that concern, Ken had absolutely no idea what to do.

It would appear that either Aya's patience had run out, or he had resigned himself to dealing with a moron. Signing, he pushed his chair back quietly as he got up and moved over to the brunette. Ken was frozen in his spot, dark eyes held captive by a probing gaze, as Aya bent slightly and picked up the towel in his lap.

Once again, the brunette could only watch mutely as the older assassin opened the freezer compartment and took out a tray of ice, emptying a few cubes into the towel before wrapping it up into a small bundle. Aya looked so graceful, even when doing the most mundane things.

It was not until the man was right in front of him, once again thrusting the towel back at him, that Ken snapped out of his daze. Hand shaking slightly, he reached out and took the offered towel, his fingers lightly brushing against Aya's as he did so. And it was not until he had the cold cloth pressed against his cheek that he realized he had not uttered a single word of thanks.

Glancing up hurriedly at Aya who was by now back at his end of the table, Ken said softly. "Sa…sankyuu."

"Hn". Aya didn't look up as he settled back down in his seat and went back to studying his tea.

The pattering of raindrops against the kitchen window was the only sound to be heard for a long while. Ken methodically rubbed the ice in small circles against his warm cheek, his gaze resting blankly on the tabletop. The events of the night kept replaying in his head, his thoughts crashing and tangling amongst themselves. He was confused, getting more muddled by the second by the man opposite him. No. Not just one man, but two. And it was more than he could handle for the night. He was jerked out of his reverie when a deep voice shattered the silence.

"Are those groceries?"

Brown eyes shot up to see the redhead staring quizzically at the soggy mess on the table. The brown paper bag was soaked through, and so were the cartons it contained. Catching sight of a rumpled corner of a lemon jell-o box, Ken nearly groaned. So much for his peace offering. Looking up once more and meeting those intense eyes, Ken felt his cheeks heating up for no reason. 

"Ye..yeah…" he stammered and lowered his eyes hurriedly. "Looks like they're all ruined though."

"Hn." 

He could feel the redhead's gaze on him and his cheeks heated further. Damn it. What was wrong with him?! Not knowing what else to say,, Ken laid the towel back on the table and started fiddling with his teabag.

"Were you delayed getting back?"

Once again, Ken jumped slightly at the question. He seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. "Nani?" he whispered, looking up uncertainly at the redhead. 

"You were a long time at the grocer's." Aya's response was calm, unemotional, as he stared deeply into the brunette's eyes. It was like he could read his innermost thoughts, and Ken fidgeted uncomfortably.

"I…decided to go for a walk." Ken mumbled in reply. He didn't know why, but he just couldn't bring himself to tell Aya about Uchida. Somehow he knew that his leader wouldn't take the news of him running into the journalist well, let alone spending time with him. And somehow, he just didn't want Aya to know, though he couldn't really say why, just like he couldn't explain why the hell he was feeling guilty about it.

Aya was still staring at him, studying him. He could feel it, but he couldn't bring himself to meet those eyes. Throat suddenly dry, he brought his cup up and gulped down the rest of his tea, not caring that he was scalding his tongue. Standing abruptly, he said in as steady a voice as he could muster, "Thanks for the tea Aya. I should go to bed. I have an early coaching session tomorrow."

Before he could turn fully to go however, he heard the sharp reply from his leader.

"I thought we talked about coaching those kids."

Ken froze. He could hear the underlying disapproval in the voice, and once again, he couldn't help the frustration and the anger rising in him. The feeling was tinged with exhaustion this time, a disappointment, an ache that he couldn't quite place a finger on.  He should have known. That feeling of companionship between them couldn't last, was too good to be true. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, fingers gripping tightly onto the edge of the table. No, he wasn't going to argue with him on this matter again. Not anymore. Not tonight.

Turning back to meet the redhead's cold gaze head-on, Ken spoke clearly, levelly, tiredly.

"I know how you feel about my coaching. I know you think it's unimportant and frivolous. I don't know how to make you understand and, you know what, I don't give a damn. I'm not stopping. And you can't make me. So don't even try, Aya."

He could barely control the shaking of his voice.  He just wanted to escape to his room, too worn out to deal with anything else. Turning without sparing another glance at the redhead, he muttered, "Oyasumi", and sprinted out of the kitchen, heart heavy, taking the stairs two at a time.

He didn't see the contemplative look Aya gave him, didn't see how he stared silently after him long after he was gone.

He didn't see the redhead standing up to look over the groceries, nor the long look he gave to the lemon jell-o boxes.

He didn't hear the quiet sigh, nor saw him gathering the soggy boxes up before carefully putting them away in the cupboard together with his pack of tea.

But then again, he wasn't supposed to. 

*****

Ken stood hands on hips, watching three children chase after each other, up and down the green lawn of the park. Between them they passed a soccer ball in the happy, pointless way children play with things. The bright sound of laughter hit his ears, forcing him to smile just slightly. The smile did not quite feel real, but that was alright. There were at least three happy souls in the park that day. 

Behind him, talking quietly amongst themselves and every once in a while throwing glances in his direction that he knew he was not supposed to notice were the three children's parents. Usually when parents brought their children to Sunday morning soccer practice it was a chance for them to get some shopping done, a kind of temporary daycare. But today was different. It was different in a lot of ways. Usually there were in upwards of ten or even fifteen children who came to play soccer with him. But today there were only the three, and their conspiring parents.

Ken sighed and looked at the ground. He shouldn't think of it like that. It wasn't their fault. He couldn't blame the parents or the kids. He had no one to blame but himself, as he was sure Aya would point out if he had been there to witness what was happening. After all it was somehow Ken's fault that the entire world now knew, or thought they knew, who he really was and what rumors the papers were spreading about him. So who else should he blame but himself? 

He cursed softly under his breath. This was so stupid. His life was becoming a joke. Everywhere he turned there were people pointing, staring, looking, passing judgment. He just wanted his life back, and what little normalcy anonymity had afforded him for a small time.

"Hidaka-san?" the soft sound of the female voice made him turn. Hirata-san had come up behind him and was now smiling and looking rather awkward. 

"Hai, Hirata-san? Tadashi-kun is much improved, don't you think?" Ken asked, smiling broadly. He figured he knew what was coming, but it was easier just to forge ahead anyway. 

"Oh, yes yes, he is. Thank you so much for the time that you've put into teaching him, but… well, it's only that I think we should be going. Yamamoto-san and Aizawa-san have matters to attend to as well."

Ken blinked, the smile threatening to fade from his face. Practice was not even half over yet. "Well, you know you are more than welcome to leave the children with me if there are things you need to do," he said.

Hirata lowered her eyes and pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear. She was a pretty woman and Ken felt bad, because he knew that this was difficult for her. They had always been very amiable with each other, and to her credit she had come with Tadashi today when so many others had not. 

"Forgive me, Hidaka-san, this is very embarrassing, but I hope you understand. We've all been talking and it is not that we believe any of the things that we are reading about you. We know you are a wonderful person, it is only that with such lies being spread… for the protection of our children…"

Her face was growing red and Ken could not see the poor woman so uncomfortable any longer. He placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled sadly. "I understand, Hirata-san. I'd hate to think that my misfortunes should cause you or your son problems. I think this will be the last practice for a while, ne?" 

He laughed somewhat derisively and turned away, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the three remaining children laugh and run down the green. One of them, Miho, he thought, kicked the ball hard to the right sending it spinning into a group of docile pigeons. The birds took off as one, filling the sky with their startled and erratic flight.

"Thank you for understanding, Hidaka-san." Hirata's voice was soft and regretful and Ken felt more than saw her bow low to him in apology before she turned away to join the other two parents, Yamamoto and Aizawa, near the edge of the sloping green. He watched with sad brown eyes as the children were called over, watched as their parents gathered them to go and as they protested, but he knew that their protestations would make no difference. Adults were always so terribly worried with things like appearances and prestige. 

The parents led the children by him, holding them tightly by the hands so that they could wave goodbye, but could not gift him with their usual end of practice hugs. A sick, horrible feeling filled Ken's stomach and he had to force himself to smile so that he would not cry in grief. He was losing the most important thing in his life and there was nothing he could do about it. 

"Goodbye!" he called as cheerily as he could and had to bite his tongue so as not to call out 'see you next Sunday', because he knew that there would not be a next Sunday. There would not be any Sundays for a long time and it was breaking his heart. 

Long after the kids and their parents were gone Ken stood, arms slack at his side, looking out over the quiet, sun-drenched field. It was hollow and empty and reminded him of his heart. The ball was sitting off to one side, abandoned by the children when their parents had called them away. 

He jogged down the length of the field, taking no pleasure in the simple act that once brought him great joy. He juggled the ball between his feet, dancing with it gracefully back up the lawn. He imagined how angry Aya would be if he knew he'd messed around like that in the park where anyone could see and affirm their suspicions that he was indeed –the- Ken Hidaka. But what the fuck did Ken care anymore, anyway. He was. Besides, Aya'd already had his triumph for the day, though the redhead didn't even know it. There would be no more soccer practices. That ought to make his fearless leader happy. 

With a savage kick Ken sent the ball spinning wildly towards the tree where he always left his bag. As he watched the ball hurtle towards its mark he realized that his bag was not the only thing that was leaning against the tall, shady tree. 

Brown eyes widened as he took in slightly tousled black hair, a pair of fashionable glasses, and Gucci loafers. He really was being stalked. The ball slammed against the tree about a foot from Uchida's head. The journalist gave the ball a scandalized look and then got to his feet, brushing himself off as Ken ambled over. 

"Uchida-san, what did I tell you about stalking me?" he asked, arms crossed over his chest. 

"And what did I tell you about stalking you?" Uchida replied raising one eyebrow over a hazel eye.

"That you have better things to do, and yet here you are."

"Why does happening by the park and seeing you coach soccer and stopping to wait for an ample opportunity to say hello qualify as stalking?" Uchida asked, trying to sound indignant. He flashed Ken his winning smile and Ken couldn't help but be affected by it, feeling the pit of his stomach warm slightly. He lowered his eyes. As soon as they rested on the soccer ball he forgot any good humor that his banter with the journalist had caused and sighed. He walked over to his bag and shouldered it, picking up the ball and tucking it under his arm.

Uchida gave him an appraising look, tilting his head to the side. "What's wrong, Ken-san?" 

Ken shot Uchida a dark look, rankling at the use of his first name again, and the half-assed attempt Uchida was making to make it appear somewhat formal by tacking 'san' on the end. 

"Nothing is wrong, Uchida-san," he replied, punching the last name. 

The other man sighed, rolling his eyes. "After yesterday, aren't we at least somewhat civil with each other? Don't I stand at least a little bit higher in your regard?"

"Thanks to yesterday I ended up soaked on my way home," Ken grumbled.

"As if I didn't." He sighed and came closer to Ken, giving him an earnest look. "I really do appreciate you helping me out yesterday, Hidaka-san. There does that make you feel better, that I used your surname? I'll refrain from using Ken if it bothers you so much. I mean heaven forbid I say it and you rip my throat out or… try to kick me in the head with another soccer ball."

"I wasn't trying to kick you in the head," Ken broke in.

"It sure looked like it."

"I didn't even know you were there!" Ken said, aggravated. 

"Sure you didn't." 

"Look, Uchida-san-"

"You could call me Teijirou, I'd be okay with that."

Ken adjusted his bag and stared hard at the black-haired journalist before him. He wanted to be angry, wanted to chew him a new one, but for some reason the playful twinkle in those hazel eyes and the charming quirk of Uchida's smile wouldn't let him. This man should have been a politician, not a journalist. "Look," he snapped, not sounding half as mad as he wanted to, "I've already had a shitty day, and I had a shitty night too. I'd really appreciate it if you wouldn't aggravate me on purpose." 

"I promise that's not why I came here," Uchida said earnestly. "But I will admit that you were right about one thing, I didn't just happen by. I came to see you." 

"So you are stalking me."

"No, I just wanted to get some coffee. Can I buy you a cup of coffee? Ken-kun?" he said smiling that smile again, only this time it was softer, more playful and it seemed like it was a particular smile meant just for Ken to see. 

The brunette assassin mentally kicked himself for thinking something like that and had to look away because of the awkward heat he was feeling rising to his cheeks. He didn't look away fast enough though.

"Are you blushing?" Uchida asked, his voice teasing, bemused. He stepped closer and bent low, trying to look into Ken's face. "Aww, kawaii da yo!"  

"Get away!" Ken snapped, blushing even redder while trying to fend the other man off with his hand. 

"Not unless you come get some coffee with me," Uchida answered, smiling brilliantly. 

"Fine!" Ken agreed grumpily, not liking the way it felt like Uchida might pounce on him at any moment if he failed to comply. 

"Great! I know just the place." Uchida grinned and gave Ken's wrist a little tug as he passed by him. 

The two men headed out of the park, Uchida leading the way with long, elegant strides, Ken following a bit more awkwardly with the bag and the soccer ball forcing him to do an odd little balancing act. They passed down a few streets, Uchida talking about nothing in particular most of the way, Ken halfway, but not really listening. The journalist led Ken to a small, but pleasant café and sat them down at a small table on the street. 

After they'd settled in and ordered Uchida leaned across the table, chin in hands, and fixed Ken with a hazel gaze that was a lot more intense than Ken had been prepared for. "So what's made your morning so bad? Why the distraction?" 

Ken hadn't thought he'd been all that distracted, but didn't comment on this fact. Maybe he had been. Maybe he'd just been too distracted to notice. Still he found it interesting that Uchida wanted to know, that he cared at all.

Brown eyes looked up and Ken sighed. "My life is falling apart and there's nothing I can do about it. These fucking tabloids have attacked every part of my life and the shit they print isn't just affecting me anymore, it's affecting the things and the people I care about. It's bullshit and I'm sick of it," he said, the words flowing out of his mouth in a bitter, poisonous torrent that surprised even himself. He usually saved that tone of voice for talking to Aya. 

The thought of having rough words with the redhead sent an unexpected and annoying little pang to Ken's chest and it irritated him. He grumbled, curling his lip and staring down at the table. 

"Is this about your soccer coaching?" Uchida asked, his voice startlingly gentle. 

Ken looked up, surprised by the soft concern and understanding. He blinked and then looked away again. He tried to stop the words, not entirely comfortable about confiding in Uchida, but they spilled out anyway. "Yes. The parents won't bring their kids anymore. And it's not that I can blame them for it, I mean I wouldn't want my children to be linked to a supposedly perverted, reportedly dead, apparently drug addicted, ex-soccer star either. I know where they're coming from, but it still hurts. Those kids are my life." 

"I understand what you mean. I'd hate it if I couldn't see the kids at the church." Uchida paused for a moment and then said, "You know, you're more than welcome to help out there with me. My number's on that card I gave you…"

Ken looked back at the young man and furrowed his eyebrows. He could never quite figure out if he was just being paranoid or if he had good reason to be suspicious of Uchida Teijirou. Why was the other man so confusing to him? Why couldn't Ken just do what he wanted to do and pass him off as another pushy journalist? Was it because Uchida wouldn't let him or because Ken wouldn't let himself? 

"Thank you, but…"

"I'm serious, Ken-kun. You're great with kids, I'm sure they'd love for you to come. What about next week?" 

"And what happens when the tabloids find out about that?"

"Do you really think they're going to be so gung-ho about attacking what goes on in a church establishment? For a lot of people reporting that you volunteer at a church would only make them think better of you. Tabloids wouldn't touch that. They're after dirty laundry Ken, not church boys," Uchida said, cocking one eyebrow.

"You seem to know a lot about what tabloids want."

"I'm a journalist, Hidaka, I know how to find a story, and if need be I know how to make a story," Teijirou said matter-of-factly. He wasn't being smug. It was just how it was.

The waiter came with their drinks then. Ken took a sip of his coffee and then shrugged. "We'll see." Though his answer was noncommittal, he couldn't deny that he was excited over the prospect of not having to give up his time with kids after all. And like Uchida said it might even work to his advantage. He wondered what Aya would say to that. 

Ken took another sip of his coffee and sat back. "So why did you want to buy me coffee, Uchida-san?" he asked at length.

Uchida looked up, eyes slightly startled. Once again Ken was drawn in by their unusual coloring, that hint of gold in green, both warm and cool at the same time. Dark hair fell gracefully over the rim of his glasses and he brushed it away with one hand, tucking it back behind his ear where it refused to stay, falling forward once more. "I just wanted to do something with you, and I knew where you'd be this morning, so," he shrugged, "I just thought I'd ask you out to coffee. I like you, Hidaka-san. I won't make that a secret." 

Ken was taken aback. He didn't quite know what to make of Uchida's answer. The fact that the man knew for certain his whereabouts was unnerving, and yet Uchida would not admit to any ulterior motive, except one potentially huge ulterior motive if his words carried with them a specific kind of meaning. 

Ken glanced down at his watch. Normal practice time was well and over with. If he didn't get back to the Koneko soon Aya would notice that he was gone. Thinking of Aya made him think of Uchida's last words again. _'I like you, Hidaka-san, I won't make that a secret.' _Shit, he didn't need this. 

He stood up abruptly, reaching for his bag. "I'm going to be late for my shift, I gotta go."

Uchida got to his feet hurriedly and reached after Ken. "I'm sorry, was that weird? Did I say something?"

Ken shook his head. "No… yes… no, well it doesn't matter, I need to go. Thank you for the coffee, Uchida-san. And for… trying to cheer me up," he added a little more quietly.

"Anytime. Ne, Hidaka-san, give me a call. I'd really like it if you'd come with me to the church again."  

Ken looked into his eyes for a moment, caught on what to say and then nodded quickly. "Alright. If I have time, ne?" 

"If you don't I'll have to start stalking you for real."

"Ha ha. I'll see you later maybe."  And with that Ken grabbed up his stuff and hurried from the sidewalk café. All the way back to the Koneko he couldn't get the sound of Uchida's voice out of his head or the look in his eyes out of his mind. How could this man, this pretentious, arrogant, Gucci-wearing, Prada-toting journalist who was after his soul have this kind of an affect on him?! It wasn't fucking fair! As if his life wasn't complicated enough he now had to worry about Uchida Teijirou's other possible motivations for stalking him. He wasn't sure which option he liked better. 

Grumbling to himself he finally reached the shop and shoved the door open, sending the bell into a fit of loud jingling. He breezed by Aya as if he wasn't even there, eye trained resolutely on the door leading into the back. Halfway across the shop Youji stuck his head out from behind his arrangement and called, "You're late, Hidaka. Have a run in with destiny or what?" 

"Shut the fuck up, Kudou!"  

He swore that the entire way he could feel indigo eyes burning holes into his back.     

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to be continued

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Er… please review? Arigatou na!


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